Traveler: Recollections
by The Straight Elf
Summary: There are many stories in the world of Pokemon. Some are unsaid. Some are long forgotten. Some are simply buried in the annals of history. Some stories may never see the light of day, but at least a few may be found here. A/N: Supplement to Traveler. History, lore, and glimpses across time and space.
1. Chapter 1: Hiro I

**A/N: Welcome to my newest story! As you might expect by the title this is going to be a collection of stories that take place in the world of Traveler. It will contain glimpses into the past and explore characters and situations that would normally be brushed over.**

 **In essence I'll be using this to show plots and ideas I'll never be able to show in Traveler itself due to time constraints or due to its not fitting very well. I plan on releasing one chapter alongside each chapter of Traveler. It won't take much time to write each chapter so longer updates for Traveler shouldn't be a concern.**

 **For those of you who haven't read or didn't enjoy Traveler, this can be read as a standalone. Although reading Traveler is recommended, if it's not your thing it's not necessary. It just offers more context on some of these situations, characters, and plots.**

 **Enjoy!**

"Damn!" Hiro scowled as he watched the Swinub scurry away and dip beneath the snow. He carefully removed his notched arrow and guided his string forward. "Blasted beast! Why won't you just let me eat you?"

Hiro sighed. This was the third time they'd run today. Swinub weren't really aggressive but they had a lot of meat and fat and that's what he needed right now. What the village needed.

He slipped the roughly hewn arrow back into his quiver, pausing to breathe some warmth into his gloved hands. Winter was harsh this year. Lord Winter must be in a foul mood.

It looked like he needed to get back to the village soon. He could sense the incoming storm. Its arrival was heralded by that strange stillness in the air that put him ill at ease, the utter silence that betrayed the fury of a god.

"Maybe not the village," he sighed. It was too far away. He'd strayed too far from his usual ground. Satoshi would be furious at him for going off on his lonesome and his mother's wrath would be something to be feared when he returned. It was at least three days away from where he was in the Ice Path and he'd eaten almost all his food. There were just a few strips of smoked Lickitung left in his pack.

No, he needed to find shelter. He wasn't quite in the Ice Path proper, just the snowy lands that separated it from his own village. Hiro was reckless, but he wasn't quite stupid enough to venture into the caverns where the hunting calls of the Sneasel packs sounded for hours.

There was danger in this land, but he could survive. Only a few Sneasel strayed out here and oftentimes just to find easy prey…like that Swinub should have been.

"Stupid creature," Hiro cursed as he started his long trek to the cave he'd found not too long ago. It was tucked away at the base of several cliffs. As long as he was careful he would be able to rest there safely. A few of the fierce creatures wandering this land might investigate but he would be ready. An arrow might not kill them but it would drive them off. "Is it too much to ask for an easy meal? I could stay out here for another three days with that much meat!"

Unfortunately the Swinub didn't come back after his reasonable request. Hiro growled and plodded off, following his tracks from earlier. It was times like this he wished he could fly like some of the great beasts that sometimes passed through these mountains. At least then he wouldn't leave tracks.

He shivered and adjusted his heavy cloak shaped from the massive hide of a Piloswine his father had slain in single combat. It was a mighty deed, the greatest hunt the village had seen for a decade, but unfortunately the beast had taken his father's life in turn. The Piloswine, filled with a dozen poisoned arrows, had frozen its hunter with a fierce gale of icy wind.

Had other hunters not found the two a day later Hiro never would have known what had happened.

Hiro grimaced as he glanced up into the sky. Snow had begun to fall yet again, clinging to him desperately. A fierce wind howled, announcing the blizzard's arrival. It would be an angry thing, he could tell. The blizzard would fall to claim these lands in its Lord's name.

He silently resolved to sacrifice his next kill to Articuno. At the very least he could try to appease the Lord of Winter. Perhaps it would even appear to guide him through its blizzard to his village, though Hiro would be happy if it just decided to shift the storm to Blackthorn.

Those bastards would deserve it, at least. It was only because of their damned demands for tribute that he even needed to be out here. The village's winter stocks had been emptied by Lord Shiro.

Regardless, he needed to hurry. Though the moon was beautiful he didn't want to see it tonight. Not in the midst of a blizzard.

 **HotW**

Hiro hesitated as he heard the snuffling of a Swinub. It was near, but not close enough to notice him. He stopped his hand from drifting to the small mushroom in his pockets he knew would entice the small creature.

The blizzard had landed, though only just. It grew stronger by the minute and he didn't have much time until it would blind and deafen him with its flurries and roars. He had no desire to test himself against its fury.

Was it worth taking this Swinub? He didn't like to use the mushroom, preferring to hunt naturally. He liked the challenge. As the storm arrived he had instead decided to save it while he was snowed in. It would help to stave off the hunger as he worked his way through the last of his supplies.

But if he couldn't kill it quickly he'd lose precious time. Hiro knew these lands well, but with the cloak of snow obscuring everything he could only guess where he needed to go. It was dangerous enough already.

Then again that Swinub would be really tasty…he'd stockpiled a few logs to dry out in his cave the day before. He'd need the warmth and could at least get started on preparing the creature. If he cleared out some of the snow that would end up blocking the cave he wouldn't need to worry about the smoke.

His mind made up, he tore the mushroom in two. The Swinub's body pointed his way instantly and its little nose snuffled in glee as it recognized the scent.

He almost felt bad for killing the cute little creature. But he needed to eat.

As it charged his way for the mushroom he aimed, leveling his arrow to where he knew the Swinub would be. Hiro was his father's son and had inherited more than just the Piloswine cloak and dashing good looks.

And then he cried out as a massive weight slammed into him, crushing him to the ground. Hiro's vision blurred as he heard a furious grunt and screamed in pain as he was hit again, this time gored in the side by an icy cold tusk.

Hiro gasped, his eyes wide as his side lit on fire, and rolled as the shadow turned to finish him. He staggered to his feet and fled, forgetting his bow in his haste to escape the beast that had attacked him. Though he stumbled, he was far faster than the furious Piloswine and managed to put some distance between them.

He collapsed as a gust of frozen air, colder than even the Blizzard, crashed into his back. Flecks of ice tore into the hide that adorned his shoulder and would have pierced through his body had he not borne the Piloswine cloak.

Another roar, but Hiro didn't look back. That would be death. He sprinted, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side and back as best he could. The cold wind felt as though it would strip his flesh away and his throat and nose burned as he breathed in the icy air but it didn't matter – as long as he still felt pain he was alive and that was all he cared about.

Then he looked up and let out a cry as he stumbled to a stop just at the edge of a cliff…one of the cliffs that towered above his hideout. He grimaced and collapsed onto the hard-packed snow, but his blood froze in his veins as another loud grunt echoed over the din of the blizzard.

Hiro turned, fear in his heart, and saw that the Piloswine wasn't done with him. He'd truly enraged it by deciding the Swinub would make a nice meal and pair of gloves.

His frenzied mind saw two choices as the Piloswine charged, covering the distance with a surprising amount of speed for such a huge creature. Was this what his father saw when he died?

Certain death now or probable death later?

"I'll eat you later!" Hiro wheezed, gasping as his side burned like fire. Hot blood covered his gloves and he squeezed the skin around his wound as best he could. It was a shallow wound but debilitating all the same. He took just a moment to spit a the spot the Piloswine would reach in seconds and rolled over the cliff.

 **HotW**

He awoke what could have been hours later, saved only by the Piloswine cloak that had somehow wrapped around him after his fall. Snow crunched beneath him as he slowly adjusted and failed to hold back a gasp as his bloody side screamed at him, the fire of the wound shocking him to consciousness.

Hiro groaned and clutched at his side as he stared at the wound that still seeped blood, though it appeared the worst of the bleeding had stopped. At least he wouldn't bleed out…yet. He still had time.

His only blessing was that the Piloswine wasn't so determined to end him that it followed him down the cliff. The beast would have suffered little from the fall, especially with the massive pile of snow he'd fallen upon. It was fortuitous it was there, though he frowned at its presence all the same…there shouldn't be snow here. He'd passed through these parts before and this spot was never piled so high.

He wouldn't question his good fortune. Hiro took a moment to mutter a quick prayer to Lord Winter. It was no doubt Winter that had taken mercy upon a young hunter and summoned this cloak to bear his weight. His prayers had been answered.

Hiro sent another muttered word of gratitude to his father for saving his life with the Piloswine cloak, though his throat burned with the effort. He was thirsty and his stomach rumbled at him. He didn't even have the mushroom anymore…worst of all he couldn't even return to his cave in this state. It was too far.

It wouldn't be easy but he'd need to find shelter nearby lest he freeze. Though Articuno had saved him Lord Winter was a capricious god and would turn on him in an instant if Hiro failed to make the most of this opportunity.

He scanned the horizon. There was naught but the blinding flurry of ice and snow as it fell from the sky in heavy sheets, freezing everything underneath a white hail. Only the shadows of mountains were still visible, great black things that rose up in the sky like great monsters looking down on him.

Hiro shook his head. He must be more addled than he thought if his mind turned to such foolish notions. Satoshi would smack him for that…then run away before he reaped his just desserts.

His frozen lips quirked. Hiro imagined he looked rather stupid like this with a frozen face, bloody side, and staring up even as a blizzard sapped his strength.

It truly was cold. He could scarcely twitch his fingers. Hiro wriggled them to bring some life back into them. His father had showed him one of the hunters who had run afoul of a Jynx once. He hadn't slept well for weeks.

Hiro shuddered as the dreadful sight flashed in his mind's eye. The man had only been a bit older than he was now. He'd seen him in the village before, vibrant and laughing. But the last he saw of him was a petrified, frozen husk. The poor bastard's face had been contorted into a scream of agony and his skin had been blackened with cold…the only evidence of what had happened was a strange ring of skin completely unmarred by death or the elements he'd come to learn was the Ice-Woman's kiss.

That would not be his fate. Hiro knew that much. He would rather be torn to shreds by a savage Sneasel than suffer the Kiss.

He wriggled his fingers and toes as much as he could. They were stiff and cold but at least they were not taken from him. Hiro sighed and shivered deeply as a furious gust of howling wind swept over him. Snow and ice dusted his body, carried by the wind.

Hiro stared up at the white sky. He would need to move soon if he wished to live. Unless a Delibird took pity upon him he could never survive like this. The hunter took a moment to pray once more for a Delibird to appear…he desperately hoped for Lord Winter to take pity and send one of his most blessed of children to save his life. To save him from this misery.

When he was done he fell silent. All he could hear was the low groan of shifting ice and the furious screams of the wind as it whipped harder and harder.

He should have known better than to tempt fickle fate.

Hiro's face paled further, if it were possible. The hunting calls of a Sneasel pack sounded over the blizzard, piercing through the frosted air like a knife. Articuno had not sent him a blessing to guide him to safety, but a true end to his pain.

He trembled and reached for his bow, his only hope if the pack came this way, and swore when he realized he'd left it behind when he fled from Piloswine.

All he had was a knife. A knife meant for skinning and gutting, not fighting. It was better than nothing but he silently resigned himself to a swift end at the savage creatures' cruel claws.

The yowls and spitting came closer. Hiro scrambled backwards, anywhere – he had to get away now! He felt snow crunch beneath the cloak and his legs frantically pushed him towards the cliff face…maybe if he hid the foul creatures wouldn't find him!

Shadows in the darkness. They rushed past in the distance almost too fast for him to see, hissing and growling at each other furiously. Gales of icy air burst furiously from their slavering maws as they sought out prey unfortunate enough to be stranded in the pack's hunting grounds.

Hiro froze. They were too close…he couldn't make a single noise or the beasts' keen ears would lead them to their next meal. He didn't even breathe for fear of a Sneasel catching it.

His chest burned and his side screamed and his eyes felt like they were freezing but he didn't care because he wasn't ready to die and he would die if he looked away from the pack and oh Articuno one was –

Tears burned at his eyes as a terrible howl carved through the blizzard. The black shapes bounding through the cold stopped as one and turned. They saw him.

 _They saw him._

Hiro dug beneath the snow to escape he didn't know where it led but he didn't care he just wanted to live for a few seconds more – his eyes were full of white sheets and black creatures spitting triumphantly as they ran closer and closer he could see –

He fell through the snow. Hiro loosed a guttural scream as he landed hard on his back, right where he had been gored. Snow fell atop him and he could see a hole where he had been before he fell into the pitch black of the cave.

The yowls were quieter now, confused. He stared at the hole with wide eyes and pulled himself back slowly. Hiro could not make a single noise.

This was a new cave. He'd never ventured into its depths…for all he knew he was almost at its end. He could have cornered himself for the Sneasel to devour at their leisure. Hiro squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to think of their wicked claws leaving him shredded all over the snow.

He prayed. The hissing grew louder from above. Hiro could hear them scratching at the snow curiously. A fuzzy little head ducked through the hole where he'd laid. Its eyes were barely visible as little lights reflecting the dying sun but a delighted yowl was all he needed to know the savage had seen him.

Hiro didn't try to stay quiet now as he scrambled as far away as his desperate legs and frozen hands could carry him – he heard the light thud of the Sneasel landing on its padded feet, a mocking snicker as it realized it had him cornered, the click of its curved claws as they ejected from their sheathes –

Everything – his yells, the Sneasel's snickers – was drowned out by a roar that shook his bones and made every instinct he had _scream_ at him to get away _now_ and _never_ look back. He quailed beneath the terrible rumble and didn't even realize he'd curled up on himself…the Sneasel and its ilk that had followed it fared no better.

His squinted eyes barely caught the terrified Sneasel and the pack fearfully leap backwards, hissing at whatever creature had made its home in this damned cave. Others dashed in, curious, and yowled furiously at their new foe. The one that followed him hissed and prowled closer, eyes locked on something behind Hiro. Something that was much more important than the half-dead human laying helplessly on the cavern floor.

The rest of the Sneasel followed it, slowly pacing closer and closer despite a bone-chilling snarl that erupted from behind him. They stopped, unsure, but when the lead Sneasel furiously growled at the pack – Hiro could barely hear it over the cavern shaking under the unknown beast's snarl – they seemed to gain some more courage.

Hiro shut his eyes. He was going to die. If the Sneasel drawing closer by inches didn't end him with a gutted stomach or breath of ice then whatever monster he'd stumbled upon would devour him whole.

He was so cold…

Another roar echoed in the confines of the cave. Hiro wouldn't have paid any mind to it but this was different. It came from whatever was behind him but it wasn't a guttural warning. No, this was deeper. It sounded like the crackle of his campfire –

Searing heat filled the cavern. Hiro let out a cry at the sudden roar of the flame that passed mere feet over him, lightly burning his skin. He could see it clearly even behind his lowered eyelids. Pained cries erupted behind him and the acrid smell of burning hair filled his nostrils. A wave of nausea hit but he kept it in check.

The cries fell silent, though a pitiful mewling still came from one of his hunters. The flare of heat disappeared as soon as it had arrived, though the heat lingered for precious seconds before the cold chill of the blizzard returned with a vengeance…it seemed to bite harder than before, as if it was spiteful of the last heat Hiro would ever feel in his weary limbs.

He waited for a similar blast to consume him.

It didn't come.

Hiro's eyes cracked open. He could hear a quiet grunting behind him. There was the shift of something absolutely enormous moving, though it didn't seem to come closer. It didn't end his life as he had feared.

He hesitantly pulled his body from where it lay flat on his cloak. Hiro's eyes darted over to the smoldering corpses of the Sneasel pack…there were less than there had been before. Some must have fled before they were devoured by the stream of flame.

Hiro counted six burning corpses. The sweet, sweet smell of cooked meat – it was different than his usual fare of Swinub roasted over a fire, almost completely burnt – blended with the rancid smell of their burning black fur. He stared at the carcasses. Even one could kill a grown man with ease.

The shifting grew louder. Hiro gulped. It still didn't kill him.

What could this beast be? Few of the creatures that wandered these lands could harness the most sacred of the elements. Fire was a gift reserved for humans. Frost and wind and shadow…those were the dread powers the worst of the monsters here wielded.

He turned. A low growl was his response and Hiro skittered back in response. His side throbbed and he barely bit back a cry of agony…it was getting worse. Hiro was paying for every movement with blood.

His eyes finally rose from the barely visible ground and to the terrible beast that had saved his life. It was hunched over warily, but even he could tell that it was truly enormous in size. Wings shifted in the blackness, folded behind its large shoulders. He could make out a serpentine neck and two long tendrils that sprouted from its forehead. A short pointed horn jutted out from its skull.

Black eyes watched him. They scarcely reflected the dim light that pierced the heavens and the snow to reach this cavern. They were narrowed to slits. He took care not to meet them directly…he did not wish to offend the great creature. He was at its mercy.

"Thank you for saving me," HIro said quietly. His words echoed in the cave. They sounded weak. Wavering. His pride asserted itself and he steeled his voice. "I owe you a great debt."

The great head watched him silently. It shifted. He still could not tell what it was.

Hiro hesitated. "If there is anything I may do to repay this debt, please let me know. I do not have much but what I do possess is yours."

He heard a snort. Hiro turned back to the creature and his heart pounded when he saw its massive jaws open – its teeth were large and sharp, pointed enough to penetrate his skin easily.

The jaws snapped closed. Hiro realized it was yawning. He exhaled in relief.

If it wasn't going to kill him…

He grabbed its attention when he rustled around in his pouch. Hiro froze, but when it seemed content to leave him be he continued until he unwrapped the cloth around his last strips of Lickitung meat. The cuts were thick even after smoked…they were his last resort.

The beast growled. Hiro shuddered but didn't flee. Even if he tried his savior could leave him just like the Sneasel pack that had angered it.

It shifted closer. HIro wrapped his heavy cloak around himself as the beast's nostrils flared. The creature snorted softly and came close enough that he could touch it if he wished.

He was frozen for a reason besides the chill but his eyes flitted to the large strip of meat in his hand. It almost destroyed him to do it, but he offered the meat to his savior carefully. "Would you like it? I have more."

The beast considered it for a second before it leaned closer and snatched the meat from his outstretched hand with its jaws, though it did not bite him. Hiro nearly cried out at the sudden movement but restrained himself. Hot breath washed over his body, banishing the cold for a precious few moments, and he felt more than heard a rumble he dearly hoped was content.

Despite himself his lips quirked. "Do you like it? I made it myself."

He saw the beast move again in the darkness. It stayed closer and eyed him curiously. Its antennae twitched and he silently pulled another of his four Lickitung strips from his pouch. Hiro thought the unknown creature looked at the strip ravenously…it must not have eaten for some time. That made him wary.

"Here!" He outstretched his palm with the meat offered. Hiro desperately hoped the beast wouldn't just devour him when it realized he had no more Lickitung to offer. This time he was ready for the lightning-fast motion. One moment the meat was there and the next it was gone.

After a few moments of silence he looked away from his remaining meat. He'd need to save at least one for himself…but the crisped Sneasel might be enough to hold him over if the creature allowed him.

Hiro shifted to a more comfortable position. He winced at the spike of pain that surged up his body. The wound needed to be examined and patched. If he was lucky the cloth would be enough.

He couldn't do that if the creature took offense to his movement. It just watched him for now. Hiro smiled lightly as an idea came to mind. He unwrapped the third strip and offered it to the other occupant of the cave.

It hungrily took the meat. Hiro frowned when he heard a pained grunt echo forth from its throat, though it greedily gulped the meat down all the same.

Perhaps this was what he needed. "Are you injured?"

The beast stared at him warily. It was still not sure of him. Hiro raised his hands slowly to placate it. He hoped it would listen. "Please, I do not mean any harm. I am simply curious. I have some knowledge of healing. I owe you my life…if I may help you in any way I am honored to do so."

It watched him measuredly before it seemed to slump. The beast came forth from the back of the cave in full, exposing itself to Hiro's gaze.

His eyes widened. His savior was larger than any other creature he'd seen before. Even the greatest Donphan and Golem in service of Blackthorn paled before its bulk. It had a massive serpentine body, though so thick that it was hard to tell without careful examination. Twin wings laid on its back, coiled tightly.

Its legs were truly powerful. The cavern bore scars from where its massive claws pressed hard into the stone. There were three smaller claws on its hands, dull and blunt. Despite that Hiro was certain they could carve through him with ease. The creature's strength was evident in its bearing.

He had only heard tales of this noble creature, though he thought that once he'd seen one of the legendary beasts dashing through the clouds. It was only a blur, though, so he could not be certain.

Though he'd only heard the faintest descriptions, he was certain he knew what this beast was. There was only one creature that held such a regal, effortlessly powerful air. Only one creature who could destroy a pack of Sneasel with a single breath. Only one creature that bore such power yet was so gentle it would not kill a helpless human that had stumbled into its layer.

Dragonite.

 **A/N: And there it is! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Like I said, I'll be updating this around when I update Traveler so expect the next in a month or so.**

 **Please leave a review! I really appreciate feedback and I'd like to know your thoughts on this chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2: Mamoru I

**A/N: Hey everyone! Here's the next chapter of Recollections. I will say that this series won't be totally linear – I'll be having different stories from different times being shown before others are complete. Hiro's story will continue and be completed but this is an entirely different story.**

 **I will say that it's probably best that you've read through at least Chapter 21 of Traveler or the only chapter of my incomplete story Champion before you start this chapter if you really want to understand it. It might be difficult to follow along if you don't have that basic knowledge. It draws much more heavily from my other stories than the last chapter did.**

 **I hope you enjoy! It's much, much shorter than usual but I thought it was fitting.**

He plodded through the forest, his heavy tail dragging behind him. Trees splintered with his every stride. His bulk was unmarred by the countless fights he'd just emerged from, though traces of blood still clung to his gently spinning horn. It would come off in time. For now it served as a reminder to those who would challenge his hold on these vast territories.

Mamoru's nostrils flared. His chest quaked with a deep ominous rumble. Tiny, jagged pebbles littering the ground and even the vast, weathered boulders dotting the mountainous land around him shifted and quailed – he barely noticed.

By now he rarely thought of his connection to the Stone. It was as much a part of him as he was a part of it. They were One, now, just as he was once One with his Brother.

His tail flicked to the side and shattered a tree. Mamoru didn't even feel the shards as they slammed into his carapace.

The Stone was a poor substitute.

His children, the "Rhypherior" as so many of the hairless creatures his Brother had spawned called them, quailed as the Stone roared with his one foul mood. Mamoru grunted and his horn stilled. He did not need to scare the little ones. Most had only seen a few decades.

One of his youngest grunted softly, shifting her heavily shielded shape to place a blunted claw against his body. Mamoru growled – they didn't need to be around him right now. Not when he was irritable. Too many had died by his horn for him to be blind to the repercussions.

Mamoru's growl shook the earth. Dust billowed around him and his children stepped back, well-aware of his will. They would return to Sanctuary at their own pace while Mamoru went ahead. He could more easily transport the vast heaps of berries and other food he'd demanded from "Rhydon" all over the region as tribute.

It would feed his children and his herd for many moons. He would not have to worry about his young feeling the pangs of hunger. And when he did he would simply repeat the cycle.

He bent his back and held his tail aloft. His children scurried away, tearing apart the forest wherever they went. They looked on, envious. Mamoru knew many would kill him to hold the power he had gained through two centuries of introspection and grief.

Brother would be so proud, he knew. Mamoru growled as Brother's bright blue eyes filled his gaze and the annoying, cheerful laugh he knew better than his own children's shapes rang in his ears.

That specter had haunted him for so, so long now. Mamoru knew he would never leave – Brother's specter wouldn't pass on until the Stone itself crumbled and abandoned Mamoru to his fate.

He snarled. His horn spun quickly. His children fled. They would find their own way home.

Mamoru closed his great eyes. His claws clenched down and ground torrents of dust from his hands. It didn't matter. Not when he could feel the Stone.

It wrapped around the great heaps of food his children had dragged with fibrous nets appropriated from human traps around the woods. Mamoru could have any number of the other creatures in the area weave them for his herd but he found a simple sort of amusement in appropriating them from the inhabitants of this harsh land.

After what he and his Brother had done for them he thought this tithe was the least they could do for him. They couldn't stop him regardless.

He looked at the heaps of berries he'd divide out between his mates and the calves that had been born this year. They would need the sustenance while they regained their strength from the long winter. It had been long and hard this year.

Mamoru snorted softly as he surveyed the hundreds of berries and heaps of grasses, herbs, and other fruits his subjects had gathered for him. They had done well and he hadn't even needed to assert his own strength more than once. His legend had spread in the past century or two. He had already slain most of those strong and foolhardy enough to challenge him.

It disappointed him but most of his recent challengers came from his own bloodline. Several of his sons had inherited his own great physical strength – the strength that had helped carve Brother Taimu's dreams into reality and cursed him with this long life – but had been too foolish and hot of blood to realize that was the least of his power.

He could bring down mountains with his connection to the Stone. What was one of his children in comparison?

Brother Taimu would be disappointed. He had always placed great emphasis on family – Mamoru had learned those values well. Even now his heart ached for dear Sister Akemi or Mother Kappa. Father Hisou's broken mind still haunted him…Mamoru snarled at the black fury that gnawed at him.

Perhaps a tour of the Cerulean territories was overdue. The Ryujin no longer lived to safeguard it from Mamoru's wrath.

That was appealing to have him pondering it even as he rushed forward and carved a path through the Fuchsia territories on great, rolling hills of shifting stone…Mamoru ignored the entities that watched in awe from the forests even as they scattered before him.

His life had been full of lesser creatures regarding him with awe and fear. This was nothing new.

Though fear might be the more appealing of the two when he returned to the lands of those whose forefathers had pillaged and poisoned the city he and Taimu had called home…

 **TRTR**

By the time the sun set and shadows crept through the forests Mamoru claimed as his own he neared the mountain sanctuary his herd based itself out of.

He glared up at the dozens of mountains dotting the landscape, surging upward like the wrathful fists of a great, craggy creature. Mamoru recalled the tales he'd heard from Sister Chinatsu of vast Earth and where it slept far to the southwest ( _Hoenn_ , Brother Taimu had called the Behemoth's resting place) and wondered if these mountains were created by that force.

But it did not matter, Mamoru knew. Whatever had spawned the great spines of mountains that ran up and down these harsh lands was irrelevant.

Mamoru himself was the only lord it knew.

He had discovered the secrets of Stone here, had learnt that if he listened to the world hard enough it would listen back. It was one of the few bright spots in his life since Brother Taimu had fallen in the mountain's heart.

White-hot rage flashed. Mamoru was brought back to his senses when he _felt_ the Stone shudder and writhe under the weight of that dread memory. Trees splintered, Pidgey cried and ran, and dust filled the air.

Pointless. Brother Taimu would be disappointed in him if he saw Mamoru now. Brought so low even by the memory of his old friend's death…even two centuries could not dull the fearsome poison it infected his spirit with.

Mamoru looked to the Stone for solace. He poured his fury and sorrow into it and it listened, shuddering and curling around him as he vented. Such emotion could only bring pain to his children if he harbored it for long. They were not as strong as he.

He allowed the Stone to slow and calm as he reached the hidden entrance to the mountain he had claimed as sacred ground. Mamoru raised a great arm and thrashed his tail. The tons of food he had carried with him was carried upward by a flowing ramp of stone that surged farther and farther upward with his every breath until he had deposited it safely into the small tunnel he had created many decades ago to house it.

The food would be safe there. Nothing within a hundred miles was brave or arrogant enough to test the might of Mamoru. He had seen to that the decade after Brother Taimu had left to join Mighty Shinobu in the stars, embraced by their cold light.

Sister Chinatsu had told him once, before she returned to safeguard the center of their Lord's power for the generations to come, that each star was simply a departed spirit keeping watch over those who lived on. One day Ho-Oh , Light, would manifest those vigilant spirits once more in Sacred Fire so they may be renewed.

Mamoru hoped it was true. His life was eternal. To see his Brother one last time…

He paused. Mamoru's nostrils flared. Blood and chipped stone. His ears caught the wailing of a mother wounded in body and spirit.

The mountain trembled with his fury. He surged forward. Stone rippled and parted in front of him even as it reshaped seamlessly behind him – Mamoru's roar could not be heard by the ears of any base mortal, merely felt as the earth itself exploded in an ageless fury that had not been seen since the First Champion had been slain.

Mamoru arrived at the mountain's sanctum in seconds. To traverse _his_ mountain was nothing. He was its master and spirit given form.

His vast rage that could bring the mountains down in a crash of dust and thunder stilled. It was sharpened, focused, diverted.

The herd was sundered. Those of his children who had traversed the wild lands of Kanto with him had not yet arrived. His mates – though none held his affection for long – were fallen and discarded. His children, the future of his legacy, were gone.

Mamoru stilled his heart. The impassive nature of Stone filled him. He shut his eyes and ignored the cries and grunts and whimpers of his injured mates and what calves hadn't been taken.

For a moment he knew everything in and around the mountain. He became a mere vessel of it, an extension of the mountain's Stone, and as such knew it.

He only needed those scant few seconds to confirm what he already knew.

The Sanctum had been attacked. His herd would be fine. None had passed on, though all had been subdued with the same powders Maki had been so fond of in the days of old. He could feel their heartbeats and so he relaxed.

His mates, the mothers, and the matrons would be able to care for the calves whom had not been taken. They were not killed, just sleeping or subdued through the use of powders and spores. Mamoru knew they would all recover. Most had not been able to put up any sort of meaningful resistance before they had been overwhelmed by the noxious, debilitating particles in the air – only a few bore signs of injuries.

Perhaps the Violaters who had robbed him of his legacy thought they would soothe his wrath by staying their hands against the helpless calves and their mothers who had remained home for the winter to rest.

Perhaps they had simply doubted their ability to hurt those he held precious.

Perhaps they had simply tried to escape as quickly as possible with their bounty.

It did not matter. Mamoru only knew there would be many more stars glittering in the night.

His children would arrive soon. Until then he could not leave despite his own desires. It would be another night at the least before he would be able to wreak justice upon those who had _dared_ to tread upon this sacred ground without his permission.

He shifted forward and stared into the black sky revealed by the perfect circle he had carved out soon after he learnt to listen to the Stone. Mamoru did not move to aid those who had been defeated. They would rise in time. For now there was little he could do even if he desired to help them.

Mamoru breathed evenly and thrust both of his arms high in the air. The mountain's entrance was sealed, shielding his herd from any future interference. He should have done it decades ago. His herd could not be exposed to danger. They were all he had now.

If they wanted to leave it would be through him. He chuffed lightly and swung around, his tail seamlessly parting the stone wall around it so it moved unhindered. The mountainside rippled under it was solid once more, unscathed by his passing.

There was only one place he should be now. Only one place he had to make sure was safe.

 **TRTR**

The Boulder of Pewter.

The Cascade of Cerulean.

The Thunder Star of Vermillion.

The Rainbow Flower of Celadon.

The Marsh of Saffron.

The Flame of Cinnabar.

The Plant of Viridian.

Mamoru had passed by these sacred symbols ten thousand times over the past century or so. They had been created in testament to the grave of the greatest human to ever walk the earth.

Ai Taimu. First Champion of the Indigo League. Hero of Kanto, Conqueror of Johto. Drakeslayer.

All mighty titles. Each deserved to be remembered until the stars themselves burned away. Sister Chinatsu would ensure that his memory would never pass. He was the greatest mortal to ever walk this base earth that was unfit to bear his brilliant presence.

They did not sum up what Ai Taimu was to Ai Mamoru: Brother.

He stepped into the Shrine he had entombed Taimu in so very, very long ago. Mamoru's every step felt heavy. The Stone did not ripple here, though it was where he had first learnt to listen. This was not Mamoru's territory.

This room belonged to Taimu. He had not died here – the Glade hidden in this mountain was where his blood had flowed into the dirt and stone – but this was where Mamoru had brought him. Mamoru would never let Brother Taimu's body be left where it may be harmed.

So he had dug his way through the mountain with naught but his claws and the blue fire borne of Sister Chinatsu's sorrow. This was where his heart rested.

He stepped past the threshold.

Mamoru had painted this room in marble. He had used it like the brush Brother Taimu had so enjoyed writing with. It was his art and he would never use such a technique again – he would never have reason to. Only the Golden Chinatsu would merit that honor and she was eternal, bound to Fire.

When he walked through the still, silent room he felt great peace fill him. This was where he had spent much of his time since he'd lost the only two entities that he still cared for. His herd would live on without him.

His body was heavy as he stepped up to the monument where Brother Taimu's likeness stared down at him. It was no larger than Brother Taimu had been in real life but Mamoru thought it fitting. He and Chinatsu were shaped from the Stone flanking his Brother, though he had only made his own figure as an afterthought.

Every step echoed throughout the chamber. His heavy weight did not shift the Stone as it would elsewhere. It could not.

Brother Taimu's likeness, cold and carved of rock and not at all like what he had been in life, was bathed in a single beam of moonlight. Mamoru closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to reach out with a blunt claw and rest his hands against the harsh stone. In this statue the bones of Taimu were sealed, wrapped up in the embrace of Stone for eternity.

 _Here rests Champion Taimu, the Uniter. May his name live forever in the stars._

Mamoru recalled the rough example of the written language Chinatsu had instructed him to write. They had spent weeks here in this room before she left him, a time that left them both weary and full of sorrow. When she had left he had spent another year resting in this place before he'd departed.

It was a time that pained him even now. Mamoru had lost his second half, then. He had taken many moons for his soul to heal.

He opened his eyes and looked down to meet Brother Taimu's eyes – Mamoru wondered if the human was watching him through the beam of moonlight that shone down to illuminate the immortal stone figure.

Mamoru froze. White fury danced in his vision. Were he not in this sacred place he would bring the entire mountain down and damn the consequences.

The thousand injustices he and his own had suffered flashed before him. Cerulean butchering his home, the maddened gibberish spouted by the Last Indigo Champion as he hung at Indigo's gates…even the betrayals and challenges of their war to unify Kanto seemed to pass by. Only the death of Mighty Shinobu made him pause until he remembered the moment his soul was rent when Brother Taimu had been gored by the deathly horn of a foul Nidorino.

All of that pain, exhaustion, and sorrow built upon itself now. It was his monument.

And that made it all the worse when he realized that the _scum_ that had taken his young had stooped so low as to take the brilliant sapphires of Brother Taimu's eyes from their stone sockets.

Mamoru roared. The world quaked. The Stone howled. His claws rent through his carapace easily. He saw red.

The rubies of Chinatsu's eyes glowed and the dead Fire Stone cradled between her stone paws ignited.

Had the invaders only assaulted his children and his mate he would merely have slain them. It was a grievous offense but one that he could recover from. But this? It was unforgivable. There would be no more stars added to the tapestry of the night sky.

The foul hairless wretches who had perpetrated this atrocity would be claimed forever by the Stone. Their children would be crushed, their homes shattered, their bloodlines erased. He would ensure that none would ever settle again on the land where they made their life.

Mamoru would reshape this entire nation to see justice done.


	3. Chapter 3: Delia I

**A/N: Here's the next chapter of Traveler: Recollections! Sorry to anyone who was looking forward to the continuation of Hiro's story, but I'm going to be jumping around a bit between different stories. Some of this has to do with details of the plot that would end up being important or revealed in Traveler, others have to have to do with simply keeping things balanced. Rest assured that Hiro and Mamoru's story will be continued and finished in due time. There's going to be a lot of characters shown in this story, though I'll probably be keeping to four individual stories at a time to cycle through.**

 **I hope you enjoy! It's a bit…different from anything else I've written in Traveler. But I think it's important considering the most recent chapter in Traveler.**

"How do I look?"

Spencer raised a grey eyebrow as she stepped out of her room in a short, simple black dress that left most of her shoulders bare. She'd spent much more time getting ready for this event than he had – he'd been sitting out here for the better part of two hours now. If she weren't so nervous she'd take the time to appreciate the effort he'd put into dressing up as well.

The results were obvious. It wasn't often that she dressed up – she didn't have time for it, really, with their schedules – but she'd like to think that she cleaned up nicely. It was crazy the difference a little makeup could do! Trading her flannel shirt and denim shorts for the dress Mrs. Oak had offered her didn't hurt either!

She eyed him shyly and nervously played with one of the straps keeping her dress up.

Wait, maybe that wasn't the best idea.

"You look lovely, just like you did last time and the ten times before that," Spencer belted out a laugh. She blushed but stood up a little straighter, some of that awful worry in her belly finally dying down a little. The tall teenager smiled up at her. "Don't worry so much, Delia. Everything will be fine."

"Thanks, Spencer," Delia giggled. She couldn't help but toy with her hair a little bit – it was always so wild, she really hoped that it wouldn't get messed up at the ceremony. Half the time she'd spent getting ready was used on her hair. Spencer rolled his eyes and playfully caught her hand before she could ruin her hard work.

"That's enough of that," her friend smirked at her embarrassed flush. He let her go after that. "I am _not_ waiting another hour for you to go fix your hair. You just know the Professor would blame the whole mess on me."

"No! He'd never!" She denied, though she crossed her arm with his when it was offered and tossed her hair a little. Delia looked up – Spencer was so tall! – as a soft smile played across her face. "You _know_ you're his favorite."

Spencer shook his head and stayed quiet. He wasn't about to let that playful argument start up again. Delia's lips quirked up – he was just scared because he knew that she'd win just like every other time they argued. Her friend and partner was too sweet to really keep up in a dispute.

They were quiet as they walked out of the small living area Professor Oak had so generously given them when they first moved in. Delia's hands shook a little as they walked through the halls of Professor Oak's large house in Pallet Town. His wife always had been obsessive with keeping it neat and tidy.

"Relax," Spencer said softly, taking a moment to squeeze her in a one-armed hug. Delia hesitantly nodded and made sure to keep breathing nice and deep. She shouldn't be nervous – she should be excited!

"Sorry," she whispered. Delia squeezed the arm of his suit jacket tight. "I've just never been to anything like this before! What if I mess up? What if I embarrass the Professor – I don't want to –"

Spencer chuckled and gallantly opened a door and held it open for Delia. She smiled at his chivalry and stepped through, wobbling a bit on her high heels. That was one accessory she really could've done without! It was a good thing Mrs. Oak had been sure to walk her through it!

"You won't mess up. Just smile and be yourself," Spencer said warmly. He allowed her to take his arm again, standing still until he was certain she wouldn't trip. "We don't have to stay that long anyway. Once the Professor finishes his speech we'll head out if you want to." Her friend trailed off. "Trust me, it'll be over before you know it."

"I hope so!" She muttered. Still, she smiled up at him to let Spencer know just how much she appreciated that. Delia's nerves were so thin right now they might come undone at any moment…wouldn't that be embarrassing? She swore the second she got back she'd hop into a nice warm bubble bath and take a nap. After today she needed one! "Thanks, Spencer. You're sweet."

"You're welcome," came the immediate response, his manners hammered into him from his wealthy upbringing and a year at the side of Professor Oak and his family. Spencer opened one last door for her, the one that would take them into the Oaks' living room. "Ladies first!"

Delia shook her head and wobbled into the massive living room, full of rugs, furniture, and art probably worth more than everything she had to her name. Despite that it was clearly a room filled with love and many years of good memories. Pictures of the Oak family were absolutely everywhere – the famous Samuel, his wife Sarah, and daughter Samantha had their faces plastered all over the room. It was a testament to the charm of the family that it didn't come off as gaudy.

Love permeated this room, not arrogance.

Family portraits, prizes, newspaper and magazine articles…the Oak family was a blessed one and they knew it well. She smiled seeing a few newer pictures of Scott, Samantha's husband of six years, and Daisy. Delia loved that little girl. If she ever had a daughter she'd love for her to be just like Daisy.

"Delia, darling, you look beautiful!"

She flashed a bright smile at Mrs. Oak as the older woman parted from her husband with elegance that could only come from decades of practice. Mrs. Oak returned the gesture beautifully – how were her teeth so white? – and squeezed Delia up in a hug she was happy to return.

"Oh I just knew that dress would look lovely on you!" Mrs. Oak gushed. Delia's chest filled up with warmth and she tried to put all the gratitude she felt for the older woman into the hug. The woman coughed out a laugh and Delia guiltily relaxed her hold a little. "I daresay you'll be turning heads tonight, dear! You'll be keeping that dress, I think!"

"But –" Delia protested, only to be cut off by Mrs. Oak shaking her head. She sighed, having had this conversation many, many times over the year since she'd joined Professor Oak as an assistant. There was no stopping Mrs. Oak…and Delia had to admit she was (secretly!) very glad for that.

"I won't hear it tonight, young lady!" Delia blushed at the sharp tone. Mrs. Oak put her hands on her hips and puffed up like a Quilfish. "Nobody else will do it justice! It's yours."

She nodded shyly. "Thank you, Mrs. Oak."

"You're welcome!" Mrs. Oak patted her shoulder fondly, though she soon fixed her with a stern look that made Delia freeze. "And I've told you before, dear, call me Sarah."

"Yes ma'am – Sarah!" She quickly corrected herself, though Mrs. Oak just smiled softly and gave her another light hug before detaching herself.

Spencer and the Professor were waiting patiently, she saw. Delia blushed a little at holding them up, though the men just looked a little amused. Everyone who met Mrs. Oak learned very quickly that she would have her way and it was better for everyone involved if they didn't fight her on it.

"If we have no more interruptions…" Professor Oak smirked, though it changed to a wince very quickly when Mrs. Oak frowned at him. He raised a hand to appease the stern woman. "Oh fine. I won't point out how late we are – I believe the award ceremony begins in an hour."

Delia fidgeted nervously. Mrs. Oak just snorted, an odd noise from such a proud, beautiful woman. "We both know you don't want to go in the first place. Though I'll never understand why not…honestly, you're getting the –"

"—Indigo League Decennial Award in Biotechnology for exemplary innovations in the field of Matter-to-Energy Conversion," the Professor finished drily. "Yes, I do recall what the notice said…and my side project for the past decade and a half."

Delia giggled as Mrs. Oak rolled her eyes and lightly swatted her husband, though the smirk never left the Professor's face. He just waved the blow off and chuckled for a few moments – Spencer's face was very red, like he was holding back the same.

The Professor shut his eyes for a moment. Delia yelped when the Professor's Alakazam appeared seamlessly between them all, ignoring her and Spencer as usual. Alakazam had always been a little…well, aloof would be the kindest way to describe the psychic.

"Is everyone ready?"

Delia didn't even have time to nod before Alakazam's twin spoons flashed with psychic energy – she found herself analyzing the intensity of the glow, impressed as usual at the unusual efficiency and speed with which Alakazam worked, placing her in at least the top percentile of her species –

And appeared outside a tall, elegant building supported by huge pillars of glistening white marble. It was fairly modern otherwise, almost surreal to look at with its sculpted curves, metallic sheen, and gracefully cut edges. The Viridian Conference Center was a seamless blend of the city's ancient heritage and modern aesthetic.

Alakazam vanished almost as quickly as she'd brought them there. That was too bad. Delia thought she was fascinating! Maybe one day she'd get Alakazam to talk to her! She bet there was so much she could learn from the aging psychic…the only other one she'd been able to communicate with was a rather crude Psyduck by the Corral's pond.

Delia shivered slightly at the brisk wind that whistled through – it was oddly cold for a June night. Spencer helpfully draped his coat around her shoulders and she smiled up at him gratefully, though she felt a little guilty for leaving him out in the chilly night.

"It's too bad it wasn't held in Indigo Plateau this year," the Professor murmured. His voice, though low, hung in the air for a few moments. He turned his eyes on the Conference Center. "This is just a decrepit shack in comparison."

She listened to the Professor reverently and played with the hem of her dress a little. It wasn't too often she got to hear the Professor talk about the Indigo Plateau! Delia knew he'd been a Champion at one time, though he never seemed too eager to bring it up.

And wasn't that crazy! Professor Oak, the man who'd given her the greatest opportunity of her life, had been a Champion! It was pretty easy to see, honestly. Even without knowing how strong his pokemon were he carried himself with the air of someone used to absolute respect.

Even so it was hard to see the loving husband and father in the same position as the notoriously cold Champion Marcus.

A small cluster of people appeared in a flash of light behind them. Mrs. Oak glanced over but didn't seem too impressed with the group. Not enough to greet them, anyway.

Delia looked around Viridian's night sky eagerly as they made their way up to the entrance, which was guarded by a few bored League trainers that looked like they really didn't want to be there. She'd missed these stars…Pallet was pretty close but the constellations were all in the wrong places.

But she frowned at the sudden flash of gleaming white fangs in the darkness around the towering shape of the Conference Center. Fierce red slits glared down at her, shifting erratically through the black before it settled down next to one of the trainers. The short man cocked his head to look at the Gengar and rolled his eyes.

She froze as it stared at her and licked its teeth. Blood dripped from the maw and she could smell poison and rot and –

A gentle hand stole her from her anxious stupor. Delia quickly jerked her head around to look into the calm blue eyes of Mrs. Oak. The soft touch of the woman drifted away.

"Best to keep your eyes on the road, dear," Mrs. Oak murmured. Delia nodded slowly, a little afraid now that she realized this place wasn't quite as unguarded as it appeared. Of course the League wouldn't let a gathering like this go unprotected…

They began their walk down the road. It was simple and plain. Delia dreamed about what it would've been like to show up at Indigo Plateau and walk the Road of Gold and Silver instead of this drab, plain path –

"Delia?" Professor Oak distracted her. Delia shivered and cocked her head as she met his concerned gaze. She stumbled and yelped, silently cursing her high heels even after all the work she'd done to be able to walk well in the stupid things!

"You should relax," her teacher her teacher chuckled as a strong, weathered hand caught her with ease. Delia blushed and muttered an apology as she glared down at her feet. Stupid shoes! The Professor just shook his head with his usual smirk.

Professor Oak stopped them and turned to face Spencer and Delia as the shadows outside the front door shifted and regarded them with gleaming white smiles full of serrated knives. Delia's heart beat faster than it ever had – she'd never been so close to a Gengar in her life. Ghosts were notoriously elusive, even more so when you wanted to study them…

 _Noted as B+ threats. Particularly mischievous with a tendency for casual cruelty, especially in specimens not properly socialized or trained. Rarely hunt humans, but have been known to kill if provoked or wounded._

One of the shadows smiled at her – the wind that whistled past smelled of old, drying blood and nearly made her gag – and its eyes flashed a malevolent red before it vanished into nothingness.

"Don't look too hard into the shadows. You might not like what you find," the Professor frowned at her and Spencer. Even her friend looked a little shaken – he was ghostly pale (she would've giggled at her pun if she wasn't trembling as much as he was). The Oaks looked completely at ease. This was just a normal Friday night for them. "Don't try to go off exploring. Stay in the main room. Mingle and have fun – if you want to leave early just find me. Alakazam will take you home."

Delia nodded hesitantly as she rubbed her arms. She didn't even question Oak's implied clout – it wasn't a surprise. If there was one thing she'd learned around the Professor it was that he could do anything he wanted. Who was going to stop him?

"Good. In that case," Professor Oak smiled and gestured grandly all around them, "welcome to the Indigo League's Eightieth Annual Viridian Conference!"

 **TR**

"It's beautiful!" Delia whispered to Spencer as they stepped into the Viridian Conference Room. It stood out in sharp contrast to the atrium – her memory there was fuzzy, like she'd been drunk while she walked through.

"It is!"

Spencer's eyes were wide as he looked around the massive room. It looked like it went on forever! Delia's practically glittered in the dim light of the chandeliers and candles – everywhere she looked there were people dancing or laughing or talking…she'd never seen something like this and it was _amazing_!

"Looks like the Professor is talking to a few people," Spencer grabbed her attention and pointed to the Professor. He was oddly relaxed around some of the most powerful people in the Indigo League. Even though the Professor only wore a simple lab coat and his normal khaki pants there wasn't a single disdainful eye cast on him. He didn't need fancy clothes to command the respect of everyone in the room. Even the strongest walked on eggshells around him.

"Is that Professor Blaine? And Champion Marcus?!" Delia gasped, eyes locked on the bald Gym Leader's sneering face. The man was one of the few who didn't regard Professor Oak with something resembling awe – even the Champion himself didn't so blatantly disregard the One-Ringed Oak.

Spencer snorted. "Looks like the Champion wants to run away from him. I doubt Marcus even wants to be here. If it weren't for Professor Oak receiving the award…"

Delia frowned at him. He was always so cynical….though even she had to admit Champion Marcus didn't look too perky. Even when he was on the news he always looked like he'd just heard about something awful but here he looked downright mean!

Even though the Champion put a bit of a downer on everything – she _still_ couldn't believe he was here! – Delia still felt her heart flutter as she saw all the people. There was so much glamour and everyone looked so fancy…she shifted uneasily when she realized just how out of place she must look. Some of the people here looked like they went to events like these every single day!

She picked out a few especially prominent faces. There was a tall, dark man brooding over in a corner she picked out as the Fuschia Gym Leader, Koga. He melded almost seamlessly into the shadows, like he was just an extension of them. Then there was something else…

Delia cooed softly once she realized the other little shape in the corner was a tiny girl, maybe two, holding onto Koga's fingers like they was the most important thing in the world. He looked much too dour to be with such an adorable baby girl but somehow that just made the whole thing _even cuter_.

"Spencer, look!" She dug her elbow into Spencer's side unapologetically. He winced and followed her gaze after he got past the unexpected jab. "It's Koga and a _baby_!"

"Adorable."

"Oh, don't be mad!" Delia teased. She patted him on the shoulder and his frown lightened. "You can admit that it's cute! I promise I won't tell anyone that big, manly Spencer has a soft spot."

He snorted. "You're too kind, Delia."

She smiled and nodded knowingly, though she quickly looked away to see if she could spot any other interesting people. Delia had heard that a few Gym Leaders would be here – the Viridian Gym Leader always made an appearance – but apparently Professor Oak receiving an award made this a big event!

It wasn't like she'd ever get to see these people ever again. Well, not outside of little brief meetings like these. She was no trainer and Delia wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to live up to the sort of reputation Professor Oak had…he was a genius.

She was just Delia.

"Oh, who's that?" Delia tugged on Spencer's sleeve. Her partner glanced over at the red-haired trainer she'd pointed out. He looked to be around thirteen or fourteen and was rather tall for his age, though he'd managed to dodge the normal lankiness. But what really caught her attention was the absolutely gigantic Dragonite standing at his side – it seemed to fill the entire corner of that room with its formidable bulk. Despite it all the Dragonite seemed utterly bored, yawning every now and then to expose its impressive fangs.

She had to resist the scientific urge to go over and ask the trainer if she could run a few tests on it. Dragonite were _fantastically_ rare. Delia had been lucky enough to do a few behavioral analyses on Professor Oak's rugged old Dragonite but this specimen seemed much younger. It would be fascinating to compare the two…

The trainer, clad in surprisingly casual clothes for such a formal event, seemed quite loud and boastful if the adoring crowd hanging onto his every word was anything to go by. At least he looked like he could tell a good story! "He looks a little young to be here."

Spencer chuckled and cast her a knowing look, "My my, Delia. I never took you for a cradle robber."

Delia flushed a deep red that wouldn't have looked out of place on a Magmar. "What – you – ugh!" She stamped her foot on the smooth tile and nearly stumbled thanks to these stupid heels, though Spencer was quick enough to save her yet again. "You're impossible!"

"I couldn't help it," Spencer chuckled. One of his callused hands rubbed circles around her back to apologize. Delia's blush faded just a bit. "But to answer your question that's Lance. I've heard he's a real charmer," his eyebrows waggled suggestively. "Apparently Drake spends as much time protecting him from angry fathers as actually training him."

She just slapped his shoulder and got a laugh for her efforts. "He's the next Champion, right?" Delia asked. Her excitement led her to put their last exchange out of mind and she looked closer at the boy. He did have the potential to be a very handsome man, she had to admit, though she'd _never_ let Spencer know her opinion.

"Indeed. I think that's Steven Stone with him too," her partner pointed out a bored silver-haired boy. Steven didn't seem nearly as interested in the teenage girls circling the duo of Lance and Steven – two Champions in the making. "He's awfully pretty for a guy. Maybe his balls haven't dropped yet?"

"Spencer!" Delia giggled behind the hand covering her mouth. She didn't slap him this time. "Oh, you're the worst! Maybe you should go tell him that to his face."

"I'd rather not get eaten by his Metagross," came the scoffing response. Delia just flashed Spencer a brilliant smile. Metagross _had_ been known to consume humans when presented with few other options. "But I bet you could get away with it. If Lance thinks it's funny you might get in his good graces."

It was Delia's turn to roll her eyes. "Please, Spencer," she said good-naturedly, "Mrs. Oak would kill me if I didn't pick someone from her list of prospects. I think she's spent more time on that thing than taking care of the Professor lately…"

"It'll include every man in Kanto if she keeps it up," Spencer shook his head ruefully. "I'd say she was obsessed but that seems to be the norm for an Oak. Even one that married into the family."

"Maybe it's infectious," Delia whispered. Spencer snickered. She transitioned seamlessly into Professor Oak's 'teaching voice', "The Oak STD, commonly knows as Mad Obsession, or _insanit nimiam_ –"

Spencer's face went pale and he sharply jabbed her in the ribs with his bony elbows. Delia frowned, but wheeled around to see whatever had spooked him so much. She may or may not have squeezed her eyes shut. She'd never claimed to be brave.

 _Please don't be Professor Oak, please don't be Professor Oak, please don't be Professor Oak_ – or even worse, _Mrs. Oak_ , or she'd be absolutely mortified. She might just go walk into the woods where all the Gengar were stationed if that was the case. It would be less painful.

"Oh don't stop on my account. It's been too long since anyone's had the balls to poke fun at the senile old bastard," came an amused snarl that sent shivers down Delia's spine. She peeked from behind her hands and saw Professor Blaine's old bald head. How was it so shiny? Did he buff it? Professor Blaine eyed them curiously as he took a long pull from a flask that was more of a jug than anything.

 _This_ was the famous Blaze of Cinnabar who had liberated Cinnabar from the invading Unovans with tactics so fierce and brutal he'd been given a flee-on-sight order? The man who held a position on both the Indigo Elite Four _and_ helped found the illustrious Cinnabar Institute? The living legend who'd forged the field of cloning practically singlehandedly?

She took a second to process the question that came out as more of a snarl. "You're Oak's brats?" Professor Blaine sipped again from his flask. He wasn't shy at all about breathing right into their faces…Delia felt sick from the alcoholic fumes. She'd had a few too many bad nights with vodka to appreciate that.

"We're his newest assistants," Spencer's chest puffed up. He reached forward to shake Professor Blaine's hand but the old man didn't bother taking it. Blaine just stared at them both until Spencer hesitantly pulled his hand back.

Eventually Professor Blaine grunted, "Well, you aren't too terrible, I suppose. He's recruited worse. What are your specialties? Human-pokemon interaction like the old man?"

If it were anyone else Delia would've snapped at the ornery old Elite Four member. But the Ninetales lurking just behind him, watching with eyes reminiscent of blood, stilled her tongue. Professor Oak wouldn't want her to cause a scene, she reasoned. That was her story and she was sticking with it!

Or maybe she was just being a coward. Something uneasy lurched in her gut.

"I am, actually," came the quick reply from Spencer. Delia had always admired the way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about his work. True, genuine passion was one of the most beautiful things in the world. "I'm planning on specializing in the influence of pokemon on ancient human societies. There are all sorts of mysteries out there that have only just been scratched – the Unown, perhaps what the myths describe as Legendaries –"

"Sounds pointless to me," Blaine leered. He shook his head. "But I'm sure Oak's over the moon for you. He's always had a soft spot for shit like that. _And_ a good eye for talent," the Professor grudgingly acknowledged. He eyed an indignant Delia with a bit more interest. "What about you? Are you interested in pursuing real science instead of the crap your boyfriend is going for?"

Delia bristled. Legendary man or not she wasn't about to let someone talk down to Spencer like that. She barely noticed the little boyfriend jab. " _Excuse me?_ "

Blaine grinned – no, that was being too generous. It was more like he bared his teeth. So did Ninetales. He stepped a little closer. His breath reeked of cheap vodka. If she lit a match in front of her she'd probably have her eyebrows seared off – fitting, she guessed.

" _Delia_ …" came the expected warning. Spencer's warm hand on her bare arm distracted her for just a moment. "Come on, it's not worth it. You know Professor Oak wouldn't want this."

Her chest rose and fell as she hesitated. Ugh, she wanted nothing more tan to give the rude old man a piece of her mind! The only thing stopping her was the Ninetales lurking behind Blaine. She might not be a trainer but some primal part of her knew not to test the vulpine creature.

Ninetales were famed for several things: their sharp minds, great age, fierce pride, and habit of holding grudges across the long centuries. It would never tolerate disrespect for the one it deigned to call master.

It sat back on its white haunches. All nine tails splayed lazily around the floor. Several of the colored tips brushed lazily against Blaine's pant legs. That alone showed how much it cared for the crotchety old man. .

She looked around for help but nobody would come near them. The humans milling about nearby instinctively stayed far, far away from the Ninetales' greatest treasures. They knew that all myths had a grain of truth.

Blaine huffed and folded his arms across his chest. "Disappointing," he sneered. Delia blinked in surprise. He was actually being honest. The living legend glanced past her at nothing in particular. Blaine didn't even deign to look her in the eyes. "And here I thought this little Skitty had some claws. Then again, what should I have expected Oak's little acorns? He lost his –"

"If you don't have anything nice to say then don't say it," her icy retort cut Blaine off. He actually blinked. Ninetales' hackles raised. Delia stared right at Blaine. She didn't dare look at Ninetales. Not when the gorgeous tails began to flutter… "We won't listen to you insult our teacher, Professor Blaine!"

Spencer's grip tightened. Delia just waited for Blaine to stop looking at her like an Arcanine eying steak – she didn't dare break their impromptu staring contest first.

If she were in a more generous mood she would've called the odd quirk of Blaine's lips a smile. But right now she wasn't feeling too partial to the crotchety old scientist. So she called it like it was – an ugly sneer.

The snarl fit too easily on his face, Delia grimaced. It was like he'd forgotten how to plaster anything on his face but an ugly sneer that would fit right on a Gengar.

At long last he broke it off and inclined his head ever so slightly. Ninetales kept its haughty snout higher than ever. Tiny golden sparks cascaded down its tails. "Very well, miss…" he looked at her expectantly.

"Ketchum," she said stiffly. Delia just hoped her voice didn't shake too much after whatever _that_ was. She'd heard the Blaze of Cinnabar was strange but was he always so _weird_? Everyone said that strong trainers were a little off but this was new. "Delia Ketchum."

"A pleasure," Blaine downed another long pull from his so-called flask. He frowned as he shook the last drops of clear liquor out onto his tongue. "And a shame, it seems."

Even as Blaine clipped the oversized bottle (seriously, how did he drink all of that?) back onto his belt Delia tried to prepare for another awkward exchange. She just didn't want to talk to him anymore – literally anyone else would be better! Maybe she should look for one of those surly trainers with a Gengar…

Nobody would help. The high society crowd awkwardly watching just shifted and tried their best not to meet her wide, pleading eyes. Once they recognized who she and Spencer were stuck with they just nervously glanced away. Delia huffed…was it too much to ask for one of the young men to rescue her from Blaine's dastardly clutches? She could use a knight in shining armor right about now.

Fate must have been watching over her tonight.

She caught a pair of pitch black eyes that refused to stray away. They narrowed. Their owner paused as he passed by and his large hand came to rest on the head of an absolutely monstrous Persian. Its head rested comfortable at Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome's navel.

Delia held his gaze. If she was in one of Mrs. Oak's cheesy romance novels (which she might've read a few times out of scientific curiosity) she'd say that there was _something_ between them. It was electric, exhilarating, and altogether intriguing.

Blaine didn't notice her distraction as he started up again. Spencer was his unlucky target this time, but for once Delia didn't even pretend to listen. There was someone – something – else on her mind.

She couldn't help but blush as the tall man actually smiled at her. Her hands anxiously twisted at one another – oh sweet Mew above he was actually walking over here! Was this better or worse than Blaine?

Wait that was a stupid question. Better! She actually got her hero and oh no this always happened when she got nervous…she babbled and it made her look so dumb and oh he was getting closer.

Was it getting hot in here or was it just her?

The man didn't hesitate. His long strides took him quickly through the crowd. The onlookers parted around him without so much as an "excuse me" from the man. They all knew the look of a man on a mission. Many shied away as soon as he drew near. Maybe Persian's massive fangs had something to do with that…

Ooh she wished she had a mirror right now! What if her dress looked weird or her makeup was starting to come off? She knew she should've gotten another opinion besides Spencer he was a man and was probably just trying to make her happy and if she looked like an idiot she was going to be _so so so_ mad!

Because Mr. Mysterious over there looked…well, she wasn't sure she should be thinking that. She didn't even know him yet. But everything from the way his every movement screamed confidence to his sharp black eyes to –

Okay, she was getting ahead of herself. Just breathe and maybe she should look away and stop staring at him. There were plenty of reasons he was coming over here. Maybe he thought she looked familiar? Maybe he hadn't felt the spark she had.

Maybe –

"Excuse me," Mr. Dreamboat (oh no she _had_ been reading too many of Mrs. Oak's books!) cut into the conversation as casually as though he'd been here the entire time. One of his shiny black shoes just barely missed stepping on one of Ninetales' tails. He didn't acknowledge the vulpine's bared teeth."Ignore my interruption, Blaine. I'd hate to interrupt your… _interrogation_ ," black eyes glittered.

Blaine just sneered at Mr. Oh No She Was Done With the Stupid Names She Promised and folded his arms. There was a silver lining to this since he'd started ignoring Spencer now! Delia finally broke away from the newcomer to glance over at her partner.

"Are you okay?" She whispered as Ninetales rose in a swish of gold and took up next to its master. The vulpine fire-type looked so, so small next to Mr. Black Eyes' giant of a Persian. It looked like a single swipe from the feline's paws (easily as large as one of Mrs. Oak's treasured crystal plates) would tear Ninetales apart.

Spencer flashed a strained smile her way. Delia didn't believe it for a moment. If he hadn't pointedly looked back at Blaine and the only man here who dared to speak to him as an equal she would've tried to say something else.

"There's no need to be so rude," Mr. Broad Shoulders (damn it she said she was done!) dismissed the Elite Four member. He turned away from Blaine and smiled at Delia. "Why don't you introduce me to your companions?"

Blaine's expression could have frozen an entire ocean. His dark eyes locked unnervingly on the newcomer. Delia and Spencer were forgotten. "Delia Ketchum and Acorn. Oak's newest brats."

"It's a pleasure, Miss Ketchum," the man lightly took her hand. Delia desperately tried to think of anything besides how warm they were… "I'm Giovanni Sakaki, Viridian City Gym Leader."

"That's very impressive! It's nice to meet you too!" She said a little too quickly. Why why why did she have to stumble over her words like that? Delia dearly hoped he hadn't noticed but the quirk of his lips said otherwise. "Uh, you can just call me Delia!"

Giovanni's smile grew. "Of course, Delia. You may call me Giovanni," he offered as her small hand was allowed to slip free. His fingers brushed against her own and if her face got any redder she could heat this whole room by herself!

The handsome Gym Leader looked over at Acorn – Spencer, damnit! Stupid Blaine. She was way too flustered for this.

"We've met before, have we not?" Delia could tell Giovanni wasn't really asking a question. The tall man just waited for Spencer's reply – he practically oozed confidence. Some miracle kept him just shy of arrogance and Delia envied that _so much._ How'd he do it?

Spencer shook Giovanni's hand. "We have," he confirmed. Delia couldn't help a surge of pride for her friend as he looked at Giovanni unflinchingly. She wished she had Spencer's iron nerves. "Last year at Greenfield at the Hale Mansion, if I remember correctly."

There was a spark in Giovanni's onyx eyes. Delia smiled. They looked nice like that. "Spencer Hale. I remember now."

Delia might've lost track of the conversation when a velvety soft nose brushed her fingers. Giovanni's Persian lazily glanced up at her and kept sniffing. She froze. What was she supposed to do? Persian were so temperamental it was impossible to know. It might be mad if she inched away or furious if she looked it in the eyes...Persian's fangs were on full display as it yawned with a knowing look in its eyes.

She got the strangest feeling that Persian enjoyed toying with her.

"It's not often Persian takes to people so quickly," Giovanni said, suddenly much closer. He looked pleased. "He can be temperamental, to say the least."

His rich voice filled her ears and Delia shivered just a tad. Giovanni smiled down at her. Delia was struck again by his sheer height – he was _tall_.

"You can pet him. He enjoys the attention."

Delia's face lit up and she forgot all about Giovanni for a moment. How could she turn an offer like that down?

Persian flicked his tail and ever so slightly extended his neck as she crouched down close. She held her breath as she cautiously reached out. The feline rolled his eyes before forcefully headbutting her hand – it nearly knocked her over.

She marveled at the texture of his thick, soft fur. Delia had thought it'd be a bit coarser. It would match the Persian's prickly personality.

Delia jerked away at Persian's sudden, guttural purr. She hadn't moved an inch before Persian's lovely soft paws caught her hand before she could blink. They felt like one of her favorite blankets…though a light flex reminded her that Persian hid claws as sharp as any knife in those massive sheathes.

"Just avoid the gem," Giovanni murmured as she became a bit bolder. Persian's purrs had started shaking her whole body. Delia hardly even noticed that Blaine and the eerie Ninetales were long gone. "Persian doesn't enjoy it being touched."

"Of course! It's how Persian communicate with each other," Delia babbled as she brushed her fingers through Persian's fur. She didn't miss how Giovanni's hand ran over Persian's sensitive whiskers, an unspoken reminder to behave. "It's believed that the gem –"

"Is able to emit light at wavelengths many humans and pokemon can't see, allowing Persian hunting in pairs to coordinate exceptionally well," the Gym Leader finished for her. Delia's lips curved up in a genuine smile. Some of her anxiety melted away.

"Yes, exactly!" Her eyes lit up and she almost forgot to keep petting Persian. Almost. His left paw's bared claws were enough to keep her focused. She couldn't help but see Giovanni in a new light now. It was hard to remember that Gym Leaders weren't just all brawn. "New research also suggests they're also used for complex social signals, like a human's sclera!"

Giovanni smiled and offered a strong hand to her. She wasn't about to turn it down. Delia knew herself too well to risk standing up in an undignified stumble. Not with him barely a foot away! Delia squeaked when she didn't get her hand back immediately, though quickly enough to avoid any sort of impropriety.

She couldn't help the silly little grin that came over her when she looked back at Giovanni. It wasn't too often she got to meet people outside of Pallet who cared more about pokemon than just getting them to beat the snot out of each other. He might be a Gym Leader but he knew his stuff! That research couldn't have come out more than a few months ago!

He was just getting better and better.

"We have some time before the ceremony," Giovanni observed as his black eyes traced the ballroom. Persian's eyes snapped open. She _might_ need to leave him alone for a few minutes if he was this mad about not being pet anymore. His species was vicious at the best of times.

Delia just absentmindedly nodded.

"You should come and sit at my table for a while," the Gym Leader offered. Delia followed his gesture to an empty table in the first row closest to the stage. Viridian's emblem was painstakingly stitched onto its pale green tablecloth that reminded her of a vegetable.

"I'd love to!" Delia couldn't help the mad grin. How could she say no? Giovanni seemed like an interesting man. If she was really lucky he'd be on that list Mrs. Oak kept adding to… "Spencer?"

Spencer shook his head. "Go ahead," he looked over at the crowd Professor Oak still commanded. "I need to talk to the Professor in a little while. I won't be done for a while and the ceremony will start soon."

"Okay!" She chirped. Once Spencer had disappeared into the throngs of people she looked back to the man who'd caught her interest. "So…"

"Just this way," Giovanni offered her his arm. Delia stared for a moment before remembering her manners. She squeezed her eyes shut as she looped her arm through his own. Nobody had ever treated her like this before. She didn't miss Persian's nasty glare. The feline very intentionally stretched, forcing several passersby to leap out of the way lest they irritate the gigantic creature.

Delia felt warmer than usual as Giovanni casually led her through the crowd. Could tonight get any better?

 **A/N: It's been a while. I've actually been sitting on this for a while and just decided to finish rewriting this tonight. This chapter is a far cry from the usual sort of thing I write but hopefully it turned out alright. Delia's a hard character to get down – it's a hell of a lot easier to write her reactions from someone else's perspective.**

 **That said I'm fairly happy with how the majority of this chapter turned out. I think it offers an interesting perspective and a glimpse into the Pokemon World from someone who isn't a trainer.**

 **Anyways, I hope everyone enjoyed! If this wasn't your cup of tea I promise the next few chapters will have plenty of action.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the delay of Traveler…this semester has basically screwed me over and I've had some personal issues that have kept me from writing. I hope to catch up over the summer and release at least three chapters to make up for my abysmal rate so far. If you've previously sent me a message (since February) and I haven't answered expect me to get on that next week.**

 **This might not be what everyone was wanting but the idea wormed its way into my head and I needed to write. I hope everyone enjoys despite its shortness. Think of this chapter as a look into some ancient traditions that are probably better off forgotten…some of it's kind of weird and screwed up but I hope you keep reading. It's a lot darker than most things in the Traveler universe but it's a window to show that there's some screwed up stuff out there, especially before the advents of the Leagues and a more humane approach to the Legends.**

 **Don't be too worried. I'm seriously overhyping this chapter's level of screwed-upness. There's just something at the end that's kind of weird.**

The seafoam licked at Haukea's bare feet as she stood bare in the ice-encrusted waves. She was entirely exposed to the bitter cold of the elements save for a crown of jagged ice, adorned with two simple diamonds of frozen crystal spun into being by her predecessors. Winds howled and brushed against her skin lovingly, a reassuring bite that stung her to the bone.

Her acolytes surrounded her in a tight formation. Each faced inward to her, their backs to the crowd of thousands that had gathered her this day. Haukea dismissed the fearful rabble's looks of awe and worry – they were beneath her. They could judge and sneer all they wanted behind closed doors. What she did today was for them whether they like it or not. Death would come for them all without her hand to stay its coming.

Haukea allowed her breath to still. Her eyelids fell and her pale eyes became hidden from the world. Material sights had no use for her. Why would she mourn their loss when the Truth of the world could be unveiled with but a thought? Sight was but a poor substitute for the majesties she knew. In truth she pitied those who were blind to the mysteries.

Everything became clear. Her Acolytes shone brightly in the Sight, bathing the commoners in their shadow. It was a protective cloak for the uninitiated, a safeguard so that they would be given a haven as the elements came to bear.

Yet they still disappointed her…

Haukea wished to sneer in disgust at their lack of faith. She had shown them the way and they still lacked the resolve to follow it. They Believed, yet were too weak to embrace the truth of their people. None of their number could be counted on to follow her. They were soft. Weak. _Warm_.

Hers was a harsh path. She knew that well – the Walk of Winter would never be easy. Cold and ice were difficult companions but when embraced wholeheartedly they would never leave you. Their strength had become her own and she had used it to make the world as it should be.

She looked past her Acolytes. They were little more than observers. No, her focus should be on the Island itself. It was her home and so, so beautiful. Their Lord had returned and blessed their ungrateful people with his bounty: Blizzard and Snowstorm and Ice. Warmth that fostered weakness was banished with but a beat of her Lord's great wings, the sun hidden behind a veil of swirling white ushered in by his cry.

Ice had seeped into these islands. The Magikarp and Goldeen and Seel were driven to shore in their lust to find the Lord and bask in his glory. The people would take them for vast amounts of tools, skins, and meat they would never take otherwise. A vicious cycle she was all too happy to propagate. For all that long Winter took it would also give.

The priestess breathed once more. Icy air filled her lungs and sharpened her focus. Everything was clear now. The connection between her and her Lord grew strong and sharp as the vastness of the Lord's ancient mind delicately brushed her own. In an instant she could be consumed, her soul snuffed out and a small tendril of her Lord's own there in her stead.

She did not fear. Haukea welcomed the possibility…it would be her ultimate reward to take her place at the Lord's side for eternity, to have everything she was taken into the Blizzard Eternal.

But it was not her time yet. Her blood chilled and her eyes frosted as Winter suffused Haukea. Her body became so cold that the hard snow dancing down from the heavens _burned_ with heat as it glued to her skin. The priestess embraced the pain – every brush of the snow and ice against her body made her connection to the Lord all the stronger. Only the crown shaped of Ice Eternal stayed as cold as she was.

It was time. Haukea reached out with herself and touched the world. The sea was overwritten with her soul and her own reality – the Lord's reality – supplanted what was. Ice covered the sea about her, locking the waves in place in but an instant. Frost fell from her nude body and spread about the acolytes in a lethal dance. They gasped as their breath was stolen away by Haukea's power.

The commoners standing on the beach and cliffs watched with a dozen different feelings splayed upon their faces. Mothers hid their children's eyes, young boys fell silent from their games and squabbles, and men watched on stonily. Naked fear was in every eye. They would never truly understand the necessity of this sacrifice…

She did not take pleasure as her Acolytes' breath froze in their chests. Their eyes became unseeing as the liquid within them was touched with Ice. Dark hair became brittle and hard, frosted with the essence of everything Haukea was. If touched it would shatter into a thousand shards. Skin hardened and paled, taking on a beautiful shine as the droplets of sea water covering their bodies turned hard and cold.

Haukea breathed once more. Ice crawled from the frozen waves and lovingly wrapped about the unmoving bodies of the Acolytes. Tendrils, guided by her will, split into numberless needles that pierced the skin and soul of her Acolytes. She felt all of their pain and all of their rapture. They needn't fear. This was a blessing.

Her Acolytes made her proud today. None bemoaned their fate as their bodies transmuted to living ice. In moments they had been trapped completely in the Ice given to her by their Lord. She had bound them in Ice inside out…those sculptures the artisans of their people were so fond of creating were but pale imitations of the perfection the Acolytes had become.

Sightless, deaf, dumb, and unfeeling save for the eternal cold that had claimed their entire being…Haukea could just barely keep the fires of envy in her chest at bay. She would never know that honor, though she embraced her own connection to her Lord wholeheartedly. It was unique in a way that these blessed souls could not know.

She removed herself from the material world and Saw with frozen eyes. Haukea herself stood out as a bastion of ice, a splinter of the Lord. Her Acolytes were pale imitations in spite of their blessed state. Their minds were still alive and _warm_ , brimming with all those transient emotions that would give way to Ice as they accepted their connection to their Lord. They begged and pleaded to be released, screamed for mercy, but she paid them no heed. They knew better.

There was no place for mercy in the Long Winter.

The Acolytes had not died. They would not die. No, they would not be granted the release until her Lord once again came to their islands on his wings of snow and ice in ten years' time. They would not be ready to be released and join the Lord until then. It would be many years before they would know the Truth as she did. Their Aura had been given to Ice, however, and it was not a matter of _if_ they would know that Truth.

Haukea would have smiled if she could have. She was happy to give the blind the chance to see with new eyes. The wind caressed her bare body once again, searing her with the blessed cold. Her Lord was pleased with her efforts…

Only one soul in the circle still bore the curse. Haukea could sense the terrible heat pulsing with every beat of her heart, a steady drum beat that rippled throughout the Ice. Her own skin, pale and hard as marble, would be burned terribly should she touch the young girl selected for this decade's ritual.

 _Come, child_. Haukea spoke to the girl. She did not lower herself to _words_. She spoke in wind and snow and the frost that seared the blessed chosen's feet with its bite. _Your destiny is at hand_.

The girl did not hesitate as she stepped forward on bare feet. The sea, frozen to the sand they stood on, parted before her. She was naked like Haukea but garbed in a red robe that signified her sacred place in what was to come. Her breasts were circled in cloth embedded with gold. Perhaps at another time there would have been stares and hot gazes from the men attending but in this moment there was nothing in the world but the Lord and his servants.

Haukea couldn't deny the wisp of affection that traitorously warmed her soul. She Saw the girl's essence and could not help but admire this child who had seen only twenty winters. A warm past full of love and cheer – the girl's emotions ran hot as the fire-mountains far to the east. The Lords of Verity, Valor, and Acuity that rested far to the blessed North had favored the child well.

The girl had lived a good life. It was something Haukea had never known.

Her islands would be served well by this girl.

 _Behold!_ Haukea spread her frozen arms. The great Blizzard howling in the heavens heard her call and fell behind the priestess in vast clouds, a veritable wall of snow and ice held behind her in the shape of her Lord's wings. The frozen sea between her and the girl parted, exposing slick sand and stone shattered beneath Ice's presence.

The girl did not complain or hesitate. She took the final steps and prostrated before Haukea as she should. Haukea admired the blackness that had touched the girl's extremities. It was only the beginning.

Haukea allowed the girl to lay upon the frozen sand for some time. She did not falter beneath the cold kissing at her knees or elbows, but accepted it. The girl had the will for what was to come.

 _Rise!_

And the girl did. The onlookers watched silently as they should. It was not their place to interrupt what was to come. Even they could appreciate the beauty of this. Haukea allowed her voice to reach them all – some shied away from the loving whip of the salt-heavy gusts or shifted at the grasp of ice upon their ankles but even more accepted her touch. It was their duty to their god.

 _You are to be blessed in the name of our Lord, the Long Winter and Ice Eternal. You are to submit to his Will and accept him as your Master. Daughter of Seafoam, will you give yourself for this island?_

"I will," the girl chattered. Her lips were blue but her mind was sharp. Haukea would have smiled. The girl's body had already accepted its fate. Now the spirit had done the same.

Haukea looked upon the girl once more. Her Lord's gales and the harsh touch of the frost had rubbed the girl's skin raw. Perhaps the villagers and seafolk would say the girl's beauty had been marred. Haukea simply thought it had been enhanced by the Lord's touch. She would serve the Lord well.

 _Do you submit to eternal servitude?_

"I do," the girl whispered. Her breath was faint. Her eyes flitted between the Acolytes frozen in perfection, their Aura grasping for the Chosen. They sought heat, life, and everything she was. But they would not have her. Haukea's reached out and brushed against the girl. Heat drained from her skin and her eyes narrowed to slits for protection.

 _Do you submit to the service of the Long Winter?_

"I do."

 _Do you submit to Walk the Way of Winter?_

"I do," came the gasp. Doubt warred in the Chosen's mind but it was too late. She belonged to the Lord now. Her skin blistered beneath the pressure of Haukea's will. It was time.

 _Rise, Chosen, and come to me. Your new life begins now._

The girl rose of her own volition. She struggled. Haukea allowed the Ice within her to flow and outstretch her limbs in welcome of the Chosen. Her new daughter stumbled to her, though relaxed as she was gathered lovingly in Haukea's frozen arms. The merest touch of Haukea burned the Chosen terribly, though the girl could do naught but accept the token of the priestess' love.

Haukea, filled with her Lord, looked adoringly on her newest child. The girl was beautiful as she was: limbs stiff with cold and black with frostbite, lips blue, and tears frozen forever onto her face. Her blood still ran hot, though, and it scalded Haukea as badly as her touch seared the girl. It did not matter. The Chosen was home and her hot blood would be chilled soon enough.

She raised the Chosen's face and stared deeply into her eyes. They were dark. Haukea could see the power that lay within, however – it was that power that had led the girl to be selected in the first place. Such potential in her newest child. Fear flashed naked, though a reverence at the sight of her new mother shone just as brightly.

It was time.

Haukea reached out. The Acolytes, crying and screaming and wailing, latched onto her. They went silent as her will supplanted their own. She shouldered all of their pain and fear. She had felt it before. It could not crack the Ice she had accepted into the core of her being.

The priestess accepted their burden. Despite their weakness they would be strong together, strong in the service of their new mistress. Haukea allowed her white eyes to open once more and she accepted the material touch of the world.

One of her white fingers brushed a strand of black hair out of the Chosen's eyes – a trail of frostbite followed the loving touch. Haukea tilted the Chosen's head up, allowed her fingers to frame the girl's face, and chastely pressed her frozen lips to the Chosen's.

Haukea imparted everything the Acolyte's were, their very Aura, into the Chosen through the kiss. She felt nothing but pride as the girl stiffened and screamed in her embrace, new tears leaking from her eyes and freezing just as quickly as they formed. Her body writhed and broke beneath Haukea's touch but she was held still by the arms of the priestess. Frozen waves reached at them yearningly, followed by small fingers outstretched from the Blizzard as they saw their Lord's newest servant.

The Chosen's scream never stopped even as the Blizzard embraced her. Her lips froze, more black now than blue, and her young body went hard and cold in the priestess' grip. Haukea grabbed the girl more tightly as the fiery heat of the blood pounding with every drumbeat of her heat slowed and became more bearable. Soon the girl would be frozen entirely…

There was but one more step. As the wave of Ice spread from the Chosen's lips and across her body, burning it blue and black and cold, Haukea imposed her Lord's will upon the frozen waves still surrounding the two of them. Adoration was plain in her eyes as she reverently placed the stone-hard body of the Chosen upon the newly formed altar. The girl just barely fit on the plain slab of ice. She was so small.

Her body was still warm. The Chosen's pulse was sluggish and flagging but had not yet given way. Haukea knew it would not for some time. That was the nature of this ritual. She still had a part to play.

Haukea straightened and looked upon her flock. _O Children of Seafoam, look upon the Lord's wonders! Your Sister has given herself to the Lord for your sake and shall serve as your shield forevermore. You are safe! She is Blessed with Ice and the wisdom of Winter's Acolytes. Look upon her as you would the Long Winter. Her mortality is near lost and the blessing of Winter will soon take hold._

The blind and deaf and dumb looked on with a gaze that could only see the barest mysteries of what their sister was going through. They would never appreciate the beauty of the transformation, of the blood growing heavier and heavier and the Ice winding its way through the Chosen's being. Her physical changes were superficial – it was her very soul, the sum of her life and experiences and mind, that bore the true alterations.

She laid one last kiss upon her child's forehead. Her lips blackened the frozen skin and would mark the Chosen as Haukea's forevermore.

Haukea raised a white hand to the sky, beckoning to the Blizzard roaring its approval. Chips of ice whistled as they were pulled about her, nearly covering her body in glittering crystals as her Lord's power embraced her entirely. Inspiration struck, as it had every ten years for time immemorial, and she shaped Ice Incarnate into this universe, blessing the world with a pure expression of Ice.

This was the most sacred of Lord Winter's gifts. Only his most devoted would ever understand his nature to the point of bringing a tiny facet of his glory into their hands. Lord Winter's trust was hard-earned, but the gifts that accompanied it were immense. Haukea thanked her Lord and whispered a prayer to the Long Winter for his gift.

She relished the chance to look upon the Lord's Feather. It was as long as her arm and more perfect than anything this world would ever know. A delicate frame of the Ice Eternal, never-melting and perfectly clear, laid in her hand. Barbs flowed from the vane as an intricate network of crystals sharper than any knife. It froze her pale hand even further, branding her with rapturous cold that wracked her body with pleasure as immersed herself in the direct link to her Lord.

If only she could experience that feeling for the first time again. Haukea could still remember the feeling. But it was not time to be selfish. It was time to give the Chosen that same pleasure. The girl would never be the same.

 _As Summer passes, so does the mortality of your Sister._

Even the breathing of the islanders watching this sacred ritual stopped as Haukea lovingly slid the Feather into the Chosen's chest. The girl's heart pounded fearfully, struck into action by the pain, but it soon stopped. Her eyes shot open, violently white as Haukea's own with the essence of Ice, and her lips parted in a silent gasp.

 _As Winter comes, so does the new life of your Sister._

Haukea finally smiled with her cold lips. She grasped the Feather and slashed it across her own breast without a moment's hesitation. Her skin would turn away any blade but the Feather sliced the skin of her breast apart without any hint of resistance. The priestess shuddered at the sensation and closed her eyes. The Feather rejected the blood gushing from her wound – she was too impure to sully the Lord with her essence.

The Chosen had finally fallen still. Her transformation would soon begin in full. Ice had nearly claimed her now. Haukea gently pulled the girl's mouth to her breast and whispered to the Ice that had infused the Chosen's body. It leapt at her request and forced the girl to drink, gulping down the precious life. Haukea's blood was colder than any ice at the Feather's touch, though it steadfastly refused to freeze. It still flowed as though it were hot and full of warmth.

Her newest child finally had her fill. Haukea could feel the Change truly taking hold. She had never gone through the transformation but she had induced it in countless young women over the centuries of her service to Lord Winter. It was the greatest honor she could give the Chosen and her new daughters adored her for it. They would know true joy in the service of their Lord now.

Haukea paid no heed as the cut in her breast was glued together by Ice and quickly repaired. Her skin was little more than a canvas for her Lord. She would accept whatever wounds or healing he granted her for her service.

Her eyes watched raptly as her newest daughter's metamorphosis continued. The Chosen's skin was colored black as night as the blood within her, blessed with sacred Ice, circulated through her lifeless body and converted her into the form that would allow her to serve their Lord in full. Black hair found its color flushed away, replaced with a stark white. The ceremonial scarlet robe clung tightly to the Chosen's slim body and froze entirely to her skin – it would never be removed.

The Chosen's hands reached out as her blackened body was reanimated with the spark of Ice and the life of Haukea's blood. She wailed, a beautiful noise that carried across the frozen sea above the howl of the Blizzard and brought every man, woman, and child to their knees. Blood poured from their ears and they screamed back to the Chosen.

Haukea stood unaffected by the cry. She gathered her daughter in her arms and clasped the woman to her chest, giving the Chosen an embrace to soothe the residual pain. The Chosen would feel the sting of her frostbite forevermore, an aching pain that would saturate her bones and bring her eternally closer to understanding the nature of their Lord. A blessing, to be sure, but one that would take time for her child to acclimate to.

 _Quiet now, daughter._ Haukea spoke to the Chosen with wind and ice and snow and the Chosen understood. She looked up with her face, the skin as smooth as it was in life but blackened perfectly by the frost. She was so beautiful. The priestess laid another loving kiss upon the Chosen's forehead. It was comfortably cold for both of them. Haukea wasn't burned by the heat of life and the Chosen would never be seared again by the mother's touch. _Look upon your charges now._

The Chosen rose on shaky limbs. She was still burdened by the Acolytes' pain and knowledge but Haukea was glad to see she had not broken. Her gifts would be great indeed. Her Lord would be pleased with this addition, she was sure. Haukea could feel the greatness just waiting to be tapped. Ice had accepted her and the Chosen had accepted Ice in turn.

 _Bow! You stand before a Daughter of Winter! You have made a great sacrifice, Children of Seafoam, and that sacrifice will be paid back tenfold. She is your sword and your shield. She will take her place as your guardian so long as your covenant with Lord Winter stands!_

Haukea allowed the Chosen to stand on her own. She was tall for one of Winter's Daughters. Most of the girls Haukea was given had seen no more than thirteen or fourteen winters. They were beautiful and talented, but few had done more than the barest explorations into their powers as humans.

She laid a hand on the Chosen's back. The snow-white hair crunched beneath her touch, though the Chosen instinctively leaned into Haukea's touch. Haukea looked at her daughter with pride. It was well worth the sacrifice of her Acolytes to create this marvel. The priestess took her place at the Chosen's side and smiled at the Chosen as the Daughter of Winter turned to regard her.

 _A token of our Lord's greatness._ Haukea placed the Feather upon the Chosen's chest. The Chosen's eyes shone white as snow when the Feather's barbs cut through her dress and skin and embedded firmly within, attaching it to her for all eternity. _In all your years you will never be alone, Daughter of Winter._

The youngest Daughter of Winter smiled and looked upon the thousands of prostrated humans before her. Haukea knew she would not remember any of them. Her Change would sear away the memories of her human self. A glimpse of remembrance would accompany certain humans, perhaps, but the Daughter would not linger on them for long.

She was a servant of Lord Winter, after all, and would be forevermore.

 **So…here's my random little bit of inspiration. Kind of random, I know, but I hope you enjoyed it! It's very different than anything else I've tackled before and I really liked writing it (even though I probably should've waited until after finals' week to actually work on it).**

 **I was trying to be vague in the actual story and not use the word Jynx, but yeah, this is basically their origin. It's kind of dark but I thought it was a fitting creation story for a pokemon a lot of people regard as creepy. Plus it explains how it's so human-like in appearance…**

 **Anyways, I once again hope you enjoyed and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Wes I

Every inch of Pyrite was baking underneath the endless pounding of the hot desert sun. He was sweating through his thin, ratty old shirt (which was just a couple of sizes too small for him) and looked enviously into the windows of the rusty old buildings. They might be crap, but they were _air conditioned_ crap.

There was no point. They wouldn't let him in. Why should they? He was just some penniless street kid that'd probably just rob the place.

They weren't wrong, he admitted. But damn, he'd kill for a cool breeze. Maybe he'd get one of his Eevee to evolve into a Glaceon…

Nah, who was he kidding? He didn't even know how to evolve one of his buddies into a Glaceon. He'd only ever seen Glaceon in crappy movies from Sinnoh and magazine ads. They'd never be in his budget anyway. How did you even evolve an Eevee into a Glaceon? Was there an Ice Stone or something?

Oh well, he thought as he spied a short, fat man dip into one of his alleys. The man was pale and sweating like an Emboar. His skin was flushed red with sunburn and he staggered as if drunk. Probably just some stupid foreigner visiting this junkyard of a city for some reason Wes didn't really care about.

He just cared about the man's expensive clothes, shiny gold watch, and lack of pokeballs.

Wes glanced around at the other inhabitants of Pyrite. Most were too busy gawking over the battles in Duel Square, drinking, or shooting up to bother hanging around in his neck of the woods. This network of alleyways was his little territory he'd carved out. The only other people here were a few junkies passed out by a dumpster, a Hypno hovering over the junkies that he got along with (Wes and the Hypno both preferred to be left alone), and a couple of little kids Wes let crash here when their parents got too crazy. They brought him food all the time so he didn't mind.

But more importantly, he didn't have any competition. He could rob the drunk idiot – the fat man had just started throwing up in the alley and Wes couldn't wait to make him pay for stinking it up – and pawn his stuff off to Bilo. That guy would be more than happy to take it off his hands. He'd just have to time it around that Miror B guy's patrols…his men had started getting more aggressive lately. Wes had been keeping his head low until Duking's guys cleaned things up.

That wasn't important right now. It was about time to get this show on the road. He pushed off the alley he was leaning against and tapped against the red-and-white spheres at his waist. One flash of light – the Hypno and kids glimpsed up at him warily before returning to their business – and he grinned down at his little buddies.

"Hey there," Wes grinned cockily down at the twins. They didn't come from the same egg or anything, but they'd hatched at the same time. Bright, the larger of the two, yipped and brushed against his leg. He reached down to scratch his friend's ears (and got a love bite as a reward) and glanced over to the more serious Lucky. Lucky was the one who liked this sort of thing.

"See that loser?" He jabbed a finger over at the man collapsing to the ground. The idiot was covered in his own vomit and all three of them wrinkled their noses at the bitter smell. Bright and Lucky both bared their fangs – they didn't like the man stinking up the alley any more than Wes did. "Yeah…we're gonna take his stuff. Sound good?"

Lucky growled and his tail fluffed up. Wes grinned. His buddies might be cute and cuddly (just as useful as being tough in his opinion) but they could be _mean_ when you pissed them off. "Alright, I'll go take it. If he makes any trouble just scare him, alright? Don't need Duke sending his guys here to clean me up."

Both Eevee nodded and followed him closely, ready to surge forward and attack at the first sign of trouble. His friends could hurt, but they couldn't kill easily. Swift was their strongest attack and that wasn't gonna put them on top of the world anytime soon. Nobody wanted to scrap with them if they didn't have their own pokemon, though. It was a fight they wouldn't win.

He walked over to the puking man and glared down at him with gold eyes. Wes kicked the jackass in the ribs. All the guy did was roll over and gurgle uselessly. He rolled his eyes. What a dumbass. Anyone who got this drunk in this side of Pyrite deserved what was coming to them.

Wes gagged as he took a knee next to the puddle of vomit that stank of beer, liquor, and grease. No wonder this guy was sick. He glanced over to Lucky and Bright and snickered at the looks on their faces – they looked miserable standing there. Bright looked especially miserable.

"Calm down guys," Wes laughed as he easily slipped off the man's watch and pocketed it. That'd go for a few hundred easy. Maybe he'd have enough to get a cheap motel room and shower…plus he'd finally be able to feed himself for a bit instead of just Lucky and bright.

He ran his hands over the dumbass's shirt, seeking out anything that might be hidden in those fancy pockets. Wes frowned when he felt a hard, metallic casing. He was quick to yank out a small, compact device he recognized as a PDA. "Huh, that's cool…" he muttered. Wes pocketed that. It might be worth keeping if Bilo wasn't willing to cough up enough cash.

"You suck!" Wes accused when he realized the man didn't have anything else on him – he must've lost his wallet already. The man just dribbled some vomit-specked drool onto the pavement by Wes' boots in reply. He grimaced and glanced at the idiot's expensive shirt. It had a little puke on it, yeah, but it was made of some kind of shiny fabric that had to be worth _something_.

Actually, he had a better idea. Wes really didn't want to see what the guy looked like underneath that shirt…plus he didn't want to get some of the guy's sweat on him. His pits were soaked. Whoever this was _really_ didn't know how terrible the sun was in Orre. Dude deserved this if he'd come to this wasteland unprepared.

So he took his "leather" shoes – looked like that synthetic crap from the core regions – and wrinkled his nose at the stink. This guy wasn't wearing socks and it showed…he wasn't even sure if Bilo would take these. They stunk something fierce even through the general muck and grime of the alley.

"Thanks a lot," Wes sneered down at the man as he straightened up. He pulled a few strips of jerky from his pockets and tossed them to his buddies, who were quick to gobble them up. Bright and Lucky might eat more than he did, but that wasn't saying much. Wes just went hungry more often than not – he had the bad habit of giving stupid little kids too much of his hard-earned meals.

Damn their big eyes.

He turned to go back into his "home". It was just an abandoned building not worth the effort to turn into an apartment, but it was his. Wes didn't mind. It wasn't too hot, pretty well insulated, and kept him from worrying about someone coming across him at night.

There wasn't much he needed to do. Just stash some of his stuff, warn the kids that they probably didn't want to hang around past nightfall, and get a few other knick knacks he'd "found" to take to Bilo. His stomach rumbled in anticipation…he hadn't been full in _ages_. Last time he scored this big was when he'd come across a few beaten up snobs from Phenac who'd managed to hide away some of their valuables before Miror B's boys had snagged them.

Bright trotted ahead, tongue lolling from his mouth, and wagged his fluffy tail. His joy was pretty damn infectious and Wes mirrored it – this was a good day. Lucky slunk behind him, always suspicious of everything. He had to admit Lucky had the right idea. Never a good idea to let your guard down in this shithole of a town. Lucky was his guard. He was too paranoid to sleep without one eye open. It'd saved their asses more than once.

Wes had barely taken three steps before his trained ears caught heavy footsteps coming up behind him. He whirled around and glared at the newcomer, a tall, burly man wearing pretty standard minor clothes and a bandana to protect himself from the sun. Must've been sweating like crazy underneath all that crap. Couldn't blame him, though. Sunburns sucked.

But more importantly, why was he glaring at him with an Ekans at his side? The snake's forked tongue flitted out as it stared at Bright and Lucky. He didn't like that look. It was hungry.

His hands tightened into fists and his heart pumped hard. Wes wasn't about to let this son of a bitch take what was his! He'd throttle that damn snake with his own two hands if he had to!

"Hand over whatever you took from him," the man said, pulling down his bandana. He looked at the fat man, who'd collapsed into a motionless heap. Only the rise and fall of his chest told Wes he was still alive. "I did all the work. I'm not letting a little shit like you steal from me!"

Wes scoffed. "Heh, like I believe that! You're not missing out on much," he sneered as Bright and Luck took their places in front of him. They were awfully scary for such fluffy little guys…a deep rumble came from deep in their throats that drew the man's attention. Ekans was quick to slither forward and coil up in front of the man. "Guy didn't have crap on him."

The man stepped forward. "Don't try to play me!" he said. Whoever he was, he was pretty pissed. Wes squared himself…he'd have to run if this turned serious. He wasn't gonna risk his friends' life in a fight against another pokemon. Didn't mean he'd turn over what was rightfully his, though. "I know he has a PDA on him and you'd better hand it over."

"The PDA?" Wes raised an eyebrow. Why'd this guy want a piece of junk like that? The watch was definitely worth more.

"Yeah. The PDA," the prick took another step forward. Wes tensed, ready to run. He'd have to return Bright and Lucky first, though. He wasn't going to risk them getting caught by that Ekans. "If you don't hand it over, my friend here," the man looked pointedly at Ekans, "is gonna tear _their_ cute little heads off before he strangles you and eats you alive. Got it?"

Wes paled. This guy wasn't dicking around. He pulled out the PDA and waved it around. "Here, here. Take it."

The man smirked. "That's what I thought," he snickered. Ekans eyed Wes and his Eevee with something like disappointment in its cold eyes. The other trainer's eyes darkened. "Alright, toss it over. And stay still. You run, you die."

He was quick to toss it over and stood stock still. Bright and Lucky did the same. They were on the same page as Wes – live and fight another day. No point throwing their crappy lives away for nothing, right? Whoever this guy was, he was bad news.

The man pulled his bandana aside and revealed a tan, scowling face littered with scars. It looked like there was more scarred flesh than there was normal. His eyes quickly scanned over the PDA as it flipped open…then he looked back up. "Give me the watch too."

"Seriously?" Wes complained, although he was quick to pull the glittering watch out of his pocket. He looked at it disappointedly as it flew through the grimy alley and into the man's hand. He'd always had good aim.

Damn. There went his dreams of eating for a night. Bright and Lucky both wilted. They'd been looking forward to it as much as he had. It was hard getting them to eat when he had nothing on his plate.

Mr. Dickhead stroked his unshaven chin as he examined the two Eevee at Wes' feet. Something in his expression changed and Wes' gut fell. He knew _exactly_ where this was going.

This guy was gonna ask for something Wes would _never_ give.

"Throw over the pokeballs," Mr. Dickhead said, confirming Wes' worst fear. He picked up on Wes' hesitance and his whole demeanor darkened. "Do it or I kill you and take them off your body!"

Ekans' tongue flitted out again. Wes thought he knew which arrangement the serpent preferred.

He hated to say it, but he thought Ekans was gonna be one happy snake.

"Fuck you."

"What was that?" The newcomer pocketed the PDA and sneered at Wes. "I _know_ I didn't just hear what I thought I did. Sounded like some punk teenager just signed his death warrant."

"Nah, you heard it right," Wes narrowed his eyes. " _Fuck. You."_ Bright and Lucky readied themselves for a fight – their tails puffed up in a way that would be cute if it weren't for the deadly snarls on their lips.

The man glared. "Alright, Ekans. Do whatever you want. Just leave the Eevee alive."

Wes tensed up. He wanted to run, but he knew exactly what was going to happen. This guy had to be with one of the gangs. Probably one of the Knockers. Nobody would be this willing to kill otherwise. If he ran now he'd just get his throat cut one night and Bright and Lucky taken off his corpse.

There wasn't a peaceful way out of this. Not like he could afford to get out of Pyrite. "Bright, Lucky –"

Ekans lunged forward. The purple snake's jaws opened wide, revealing giant, pointed fangs hidden behind its round snout. Its eyes were white and cold as it shot towards Wes, seeking to end this fight before it even started.

Lucky, always paranoid, intercepted the snake in midair. He snapped his tiny jaws around Ekans' throat and snapped down as hard as he could…Ekans screamed and thrashed around, lunging at the tiny Eevee furiously. Lucky didn't care and was swung away as Ekans missed its target and smashed into the alley wall, cracking the old bricks and dazing it for just a second.

Bright took advantage of that as Lucky stayed latched onto Ekans, taking advantage of the situation to rip and tear and scratch in a mindless frenzy that left Ekans hissing and bleeding from patches of ripped away scales. Finally, Ekans recovered and shot at Bright with inhuman speed, jaws agape as if to swallow the little Eevee whole and –

A flurry of sharp, glowing stars from Bright's Swift attack slammed into the serpent, knocking it back. It stunned Ekans for a moment and left a few trails of oozing red on its sensitive belly, but it didn't keep it down for long. Ekans immediately recovered and slammed Lucky into the wall. Lucky squeaked out an _eep_ of pain and was forced to let go as he fell to the ground covered in brick dust .

Bright yelped helplessly as Ekans' huge fangs managed to graze his left foreleg. The larger Eevee quickly bustled back while the Ekans began to reorient itself, quickly sliding back on its scaly hide to glare at Wes. He backpedaled and his heartbeat echoed like a drum in his ears as adrenaline flooded him – Ekans leered at him, ignoring the twin Eevee for a time as it saw the chance to end this battle once and for all.

That was its mistake. Bright hammered it with another Swift, even if the effort seemed to exhaust the injured Eevee. Ekans hissed and slithered away to avoid being cut again, even if it wasn't too badly injured by the flurry.

Its tongue flitted out as it stared at Bright, who glared back with his dark eyes as he readied himself for the inevitable lunge.

Ekans was too fast. It shot at Bright like lightning, wrapping around the Eevee quickly and coiling its body around Bright in an instant…Wes felt his breath hitch uselessly in his lungs as the Ekans stared him down, an obvious threat.

Wes reached into his pocket and carefully took hold of his switchblade. It wasn't great quality, but it would mess this snake up…well, if it didn't kill him first. All he needed was an opening…

Lucky gave it to him. Wes didn't dare look away from Ekans, but he could see a violently white glow emanating from the corner of his eye, right where Lucky had fallen a few moments ago. Wes had no idea what it was but he wasn't going to worry about that right now – as the glow intensified and Ekans glanced at the threat warily Wes struck.

He was on the Ekans in an instant. Wes flicked the thin, brittle blade of the switchblade out and didn't bother worrying about how he was probably going to die, or how this wasn't going to work, or anything else. He lost himself in a frenzy, blood pounding, head aching, vision red.

Wes gave a guttural scream as he raised and lowered his knife into the Ekans again and again and again – he lost count how many times he stabbed the snake, plunging his knife past the heavy scales and into the solid muscle below – and then Ekans _screamed_ , whipped around, and sunk its giant fangs into his shoulder.

He screamed as its tail rattled frantically, muscles squeezing Bright tightly in its coils, and the fangs stabbed into his arm – not too deep, just forced into muscle, but then the tip of one of the venomous points scraped his bone and his vision went white, whiter than the vibrant glow coming from the corner of his eye to the even brighter glow inside Ekans' constricting coils –

Ekans' head was knocked aside, covered by an inky black interspersed with rings all over its body. They flared a violent, deadly gold and Wes heard unholy snarls and growls and a low rumble that instinctively made him back away as he stumbled to the ground. He stared up at the sky as the sounds of a vicious battle reached his ears – it wasn't long before the hisses ended.

Wes struggled to his feet, blinded by the white-hot pain burning in his shoulder…it hurt worse than anything, even the time he'd gotten it dislocated by another thug. He grimaced, but ignored the fire as best he could and used his good arm to pull himself up.

"Bright? Lucky?" He called out, vision blurry with pain. Wes took a second before he looked down at the familiar sensation of a tongue licking at his hand. It was a warm, pleasant sensation that just barely numbed the agony pulsing and pounding and burning underneath his skin…

"What?" Wes trailed off, staring down at the Espeon licking his hand. Its forehead gem was a bright red and he squinted at it, numbed and confused by his pain, before realization struck him. He shot a look over at the sounds of soft squelching and took in a vicious Umbreon tearing the Ekans apart…its muzzle was covered in blood and a strange, oily substance that smelt of poison dripped down its fur. "Lucky?"

The Umbreon glanced over with its scarlet eyes and nodded. His words seemed to distract Lucky from his trance and he trotted over, completely healed thanks to his evolution. Bright, the Espeon, purred happily as Wes unconsciously rubbed his head. Wes thought he might be in shock. Everything felt so unreal. Evolution? He didn't even know his friends could evolve right now. They were still so young…

Then he blearily looked up and caught sight of the criminal from before staring at him – electricity jolted Wes alert and he pointed a trembling finger at the bastard. "Lucky, get him!"

The man jerked from his stupor and his eyes widened. He was quick to pull his bandana up over his face and turned to run even as the snarling Umbreon shot after him with impressive speed. All of Lucky's rings hummed and shone with that fiery gold light…something about it made Wes' head ache.

Wes collapsed to his knee. Bright whined and cuddled next to him, but all Wes could do to distract himself was watch Lucky chase after the man.

"Am I dying?" He wheezed, clutching helplessly at his shoulder as the venom seemed to pound incessantly over and over and over again. Wes bit back a scream and squeezed his eyes shut. There was nobody around but his buddies to watch him die…the Hypno and the kids had gotten out the second things had turned violent. The junkies were just laying a few feet from ripped up Ekans.

"Nah, not today. Killing Besin made my day."

Wes' eyes opened to slits and he stared up at whoever it was had just appeared. This was getting really old…he hadn't even heard this guy come up.

He groaned as he saw a giant of a man standing over him. His impressive mustache was thin and wide, projecting off the side of his face. Scars littered his chest and face, some so thick and ropey they should have been fatal. The giant held the PDA Wes had stolen off the fat man (who was _still_ passed out in the alley even after all this) and flipped it shut. This day was just getting worse and worse…

"Who're you…" Wes slurred. Bright laid his soft head on Wes' arm. He must've been really worried if he wasn't attacking the giant on sight.

"The name's Gonzap. Tell your Espeon to back off so I can give you an antidote."

He couldn't open his eyes. He could barely even speak. Wes' breath hitched as another wave of pain rolled through his whole body, though the two points where the venom injected was the worst. It was like someone had lit a match underneath his skin!

A light nudge pushed Bright away. "Do it…" he slurred. His head was swimming. He couldn't focus.

Wes groaned as a needle was carelessly jammed into his muscle. That was bad enough, but then a thick, tar-like substance shot into his bloodstream. It ached and Wes wanted to scream but he didn't dare.

He felt like shit, but he opened his eyes. Everything was still blurry and dark but he focused as best he could on the new guy. A dark shadow – Lucky – trotted over to his side and watched Gonzap warily.

"Why?"

Gonzap grinned – it was ugly, all teeth and no substance – and knelt. Wes wanted him to back off but there was nothing he could do. "You did pretty good against Besin. I think you could be pretty useful in my group."

"I'm not joining some fuckin' gang."

The man laughed. "Heh, like you've got a choice. You don't look like you're doing too good out here…"

"Wes," he filled in the gap. Wes started feeling just the tiniest bit of relief from the Antidote. It still hurt like a bitch but at least he could think now.

"Wes. I just saved your life. If it weren't for me you'd be dead in five minutes. Got that?" Gonzap stared down at him. Wes nodded, his eyes drawn to the eight pokeballs on the giant's belt. "If I wanted to I could have just left you to die and taken your pokemon. But I didn't because I'm a nice guy."

Bright and Lucky bared their fangs at that. Wes' eyes turned to slits as he glared at the giant. It wouldn't sting so much if he weren't so right…about the first part, anyway. Gonzap could have left him to die. It would've been _easy_. Espeon and Umbreon were both expensive pokemon. They would've gone for tens of thousands if Gonzap put them out on the market.

Gonzap definitely wasn't a nice guy though. If Wes could he'd get the hell away from the giant. He was pretty good at picking out dangerous people. It kept him pretty safe. Gonzap made all Wes' instincts scream to _get the hell away from him_. Nothing good would come out of this…nothing good except his survival, anyway.

"So I'll give you a choice. You can come with me and I'll get you out of Pyrite. No questions asked as long as you work with my Team. You'll get three meals a day and room and board. All we ask is for a few favors."

Wes nodded. "What's the other?"

"I take your pokemon and leave you here. The Knockers will find you in a few hours and you'll get made an example of."

Well, that sealed the deal. "I'm in," Wes groaned. He felt like he'd just made a terrible mistake, but he didn't really have a choice, did he? If worst came to worst he'd just run away. But at least he'd get some food out of it.

"Glad to hear it," Gonzap grinned nastily as he hauled Wes up. Bright and Lucky watched the giant warily…they definitely didn't trust him. He winced at the sensation – it hurt like a bitch – but Wes hid it as best he could and looked around the alley.

He had the feeling he'd never see this place again. Wes would say it was a bad feeling, but this place was crap anyways. This wasn't the worst Pyrite had to offer, but it wasn't far from it.

"Follow me," Gonzap ordered as he started walking out the alley. Wes figured it was a good idea to obey. He went ahead and returned Bright and Lucky. He'd just be ready to release them again at a moment's notice if Gonzap tried to screw him over.

Wes glanced down at the pricks body as they left the alley. He felt a little sick but didn't throw up or anything stupid like that. He'd never seen a body with its throat ripped out before, but he figured it couldn't have happened to a better guy. He stopped by the body, though, and scooped out the gold watch on the man's wrist before he jogged to catch up with Gonzap.

That guy was a dick anyway.

 **A/N: Alright, here's the last one before I start continuing the previous stories! Hope you enjoyed. It's a bit darker and bloodier than most of the Traveler universe but I thought it's appropriate for how I've set up Orre in the past. Keep in mind that this is the worst of Orre – you won't see crap like this happening everywhere, even in Pyrite. But this is when Cipher and Team Snagem are both on the rise and the region hasn't been cleaned up yet.**

 **Thanks for reading! Make sure to review!**


	6. Chapter 6: Mamoru II

The Stone shuddered at his steps. Every step was steady, controlled. His heart was anything but. Mamoru's great nostrils flared. His tail swept side to side. Trees splintered and fell. Pidgey and Spearow fled at his approach. They were wise.

It had been two weeks since the rest of his children had returned home with their bounty. He had not regarded them for but a minute before he sealed the Rhypherior away. They would not join him on this quest. They were weak. They would protest.

He reached out to the Stone. Its vastness comforted him, though nothing would tame the tempest that raged within his carapace. The Stone guided him. The wretches that had stolen Brother's brilliant eyes and defiled the sacred place under the mountain went this way. Their path was hidden well. It would have been difficult to track them without his two centuries of experience.

They had taken great care to avoid detection. The foul apes were well-versed in the terrain. No doubt natives of these wilds. Mamoru knew several villages in the area. Some offered tribute. Brother Taimu had stopped in several as they ventured on their last journey…

Mamoru's heart panged. His cold, hard rage retreated. Was Brother Taimu watching from his throne in the stars? Would he offer wisdom and guidance in his dreams? He had not allowed his mind the comfort of sweet sleep since Brother Taimu's rest had been disturbed and defiled.

It did not matter. Mamoru's will was of the Stone. The world would quake before his might until this wrong was righted.

He did not allow the thought of the brigands' escape to haunt him. They would never escape him. If they lived for another century he would find them on their deathbeds and entomb their bones in the Stone until they splintered and shattered.

Though they still drew breath, they were already dead.

Moonlight draped him in its cold embrace. He was a great shadow drifting across the land. Through the Stone he sensed many Diglett, Dugtrio, and Onix worming beneath the surface. They all fled at his footsteps. They knew him.

He stepped through a tree. Long slivers of wood and bark fell away from his carapace. Several Pidgey cried and fled in a flutter of wings. Mamoru paid them no heed.

Many leagues away there was a human village. Mamoru's nostrils caught the scent of fire and smoke and the stench of their works. The dead men had stopped in this place. For relief or sanctuary he did not know. It mattered not.

These humans were marked. They had associated with the dead men. One in the village bore the scent of stone and blood. All would pay their price.

Mamoru poured his rage into the Stone. It splintered around him. Earth crumbled and shook. Trees were upended. In the forest there was nothing but silence. All reasonable creatures had vanished long ago.

He made his way to the village.

TRTRTR

Mamoru watched the small village from a high hill. He had taken care. They did not know of his approach. The humans were few. Through the Stone he could sense less than a hundred. Their numbers were meaningless. A thousand men could strike him with their fragile metal weapons and arrows and he would feel nothing.

A Machoke helped carry loads of wood to a house. Several Machop slept in small homes. Several Pidgeotto and Spearow roosted in a small wooden tower. Useless. Mamoru regarded the village dispassionately. In but a breath he could slay them all.

His claws scraped against themselves. The Stone groaned at his will. Thousands of small fragments and pebbles and shards rose against nature's will and poised at his command. They would tear the human's feeble structures apart. Mamoru would explore at his leisure. The Stone would guide him.

Soft, dainty paws scuffed against the underbrush. Heat bathed him. A glow lit the night. The Machoke in the village turned to watch. The stones hung silently in the air, undisturbed by this new presence.

Mamoru did not react to the achingly familiar presence that sat by his side, as though it hadn't been nearly two centuries since their last meeting. The stars glittered overhead. He hoped Taimu watched them.

 _O Brother, it is a blessing to see you with mine own eyes. It has been many years since I last ventured from my vigil. I sensed your pain and knew it was time for our long-awaited meeting. What has become of you?_

For the first time in two weeks, Mamoru felt his heart pang. He turned his great head and regarded the golden shape of his old friend. Sister Chinatsu had not aged a day. Her long fur shone golden as the blazing Flame embedded in her neck, a mark of Moltres' favor. The Ninetales' eyes burned a brilliant red, alit with mystery and ancient intelligence. She was pristine, untouched by the ravages of time. Though he could not die, he bore scars and grew larger and wilder.

She was the same. Chinatsu brushed her tails against his leg. The heat warmed him even through the hard stone of his skin. He relaxed. He had missed this dearly. If only mighty Shinobu were here…

 _Had only his flesh been unbreakable as your own. His tomb is guarded now by my specters. It will suffice until I return._

Sister Chinatsu wound her way about Mamoru, and regarded the human village interestedly. The Feather embedded in her bone and muscle and sinew shone brilliantly in her coat, searing away the cold darkness of night.

 _Though Fire guided me to you, I know not the nature of your distress. What terror has befallen you, Brother?_

Mamoru's claws scraped against his hide. Brother Taimu and his empty sockets, bereft of the shining sapphires that occupied the stone before. His long hunt of the dead men that had led him here. Tracing their paths through the Stone…

Chinatsu's coat burst into roaring flame. Her eyes narrowed. Her tails swished, sparking cinders raining away. White-hot fires raced through the forest floor and greedily devoured every bit of fuel they could find. Mamoru was undaunted by the flames. He basked in their warm touch, unhurt by Chinatsu's spawn.

He knew that she would not try to stop him.

 _Let us begin our bloody work!_

Mamoru allowed the stone shards to fly. Screams greeted him. It did not bother him. A rolling hill of stone erupted beneath his feet. It would carry him down to face these humans himself. Sister Chinatsu was no more, a swarm of blazing blue wisps with a core of gold at their center.

They would not ask these humans any questions. They would find whatever they needed in the ashes.

TRTRTR

Mamoru did not chase the fleeing humans. Many escaped his wrath. Some had fought, but they had died. The village was no more. What was not swallowed up in the vast chasm he'd carved in the Stone had been devoured by Sister Chinatsu's wisps. Smoke clogged the air.

It was like old times.

Only one had been spared. A man. Young. It was difficult for Mamoru to discern human ages. It did not matter. This man would not live long. He had died as soon as he had guided the foul brigands to Mamoru's home and uncovered the hidden way to Brother Taimu's tomb.

The stars glinted above. Mamoru was bathed in their light. Sister Chinatsu reconstituted her physical form with ease, the blue wisps that had swarmed the village coalescing together into her golden shape. He admired her for a moment. She had grown much in their time apart.

 _This is one of them?_

Mamoru's mighty foot on the puny human's chest was her answer. The man soiled himself. His pants were dark and wet. Mamoru's nostrils twitched. Pathetic creature. Had he not imagined how this would end?

"Please! Please don't do this!" The dead man gibbered and gesticulated with soon-to-be-broken limbs. Tears streaked his face. Brother Taimu would never have dishonored himself so. "Please! I didn't mean to take them there! I just needed to eat. Please -"

Chinatsu's bloody red eyes stared into the human's. The man went slack, then screamed. Weak. Mamoru glanced down at Sister Chinatsu. She paused, then huffed and strode away.

One of the human's hands reached out and grasped one of her flowing golden tails.

Mamoru's eyes glinted. It had been centuries since any creature that walked this earth had made such a dread mistake.

Chinatsu froze. Her Feather flared. The man sobbed as his hand burnt away in a flush of golden fire, burnt away so cleanly and so hotly that not even ash remained. It stopped at his wrist.

 _Fool! To violate my glory so… you are doomed! Egg-cracker, thief, knife in the dark… do not seek to mislead us. You are no innocent. I have seen your deepest desire, your darkest crimes. I have seen you. You have committed deathly crimes against our Brother, young Haruto, and for that this land will suffer._

She calmed, then swished her tails. The creature shrieked underneath Mamoru's weight as the human's eyes shone the same red as Chinatsu's. Mamoru stepped off.

It was time he fulfilled his promise. Mamoru poured his lust for vengeance into the Stone. The human's cries muffled and went silent as he was entombed in stone. He would not live long, but his soul would forever be trapped. The thief, the foul egg-cracker that Chinatsu had named him, would never join Brother Taimu in the stars.

He searched the Stone. They would pursue the humans who had fled this place. They had a single goal. The Stone whispered to him. If he followed, they would find the others. They would find the sacred sapphires he had shaped into Brother Taimu's eyes.

Mamoru snorted and left the shattered, burning remnants of the village behind him. Chinatsu trotted alongside him, serene as ever in the face of their justice. He was glad she had joined him on this quest. It had been many decades since he had been blessed with true companionship.

 _Lead on, Brother. We will restore our Master's memory. His spirit will not find its rest broken for long._

Chinatsu swore those words upon Fire. A warmth flushed his chest. Several trees were trampled underfoot as his trusted friend strode gracefully by his side.

Only one of the dead men had been rightfully punished. There were countless more hidden away in the squalid dens humans had erected in Mamoru's territory. In days past they remembered his strength. His history. His partnership with the greatest man to have walked this base earth.

Ai Taimu had conquered this land once. He had carved his path to Fuschia with the last sons of Indigo and small bands of inspired veterans at his back. Mamoru and Chinatsu had stood at his side then.

He would reconquer this land in the name of Ai Taimu. These crying apes would remember Brother Taimu's name. They would beg forgiveness. They would beg mercy.

Mamoru had none.

The Stone sang to him at every step the humans took. They fled into darkness.

They would lead him to the dead men.

They would lead him to his stolen children.

They would lead him to justice.

Most importantly, they would lead him to his brother.

The stars twinkled overhead. Mamoru liked to think Taimu was watching.


	7. Chapter 7: Dazed

She stood sentry by the door of the healing-place. Ash-Mother Delia had left mere moments ago. She had blocked entry to Friend-Champion Lance and Mentor-Steven, though she was loathe to do so. Master Claydol's assistance would be invaluable, she felt.

Yet they could not enter. Not while her Master lay defenseless and reeling after his Mastery of the Void Swarm. She shuffled across too-clean tiles and past the sleeping shape of King and Caretaker. King's large purple body lay still save the silent rise and fall of his chest. He had guarded this room for twelve hours before she had laid him to rest. King would need his strength in the coming days.

The others were scattered about the room, save for the Brute. She relished that he was trapped in his binding-sphere. It was not an unpleasant experience for the Brute, but it kept him and his fires away from the innocent. Brute would have been far too difficult to lull into slumber.

Her soft white mane shone in the moonlight which peaked through the windows. She brushed her foci against it, cleansing the jeweled loop of any impurities. Its cleanliness was essential. To allow anything less than pristine condition was to mock her own power.

She watched Master rest underneath the covers. It was something she saw far too little. Even in rest he normally tossed and turned, tormented by whatever fell thoughts raced through his young mind. It was why she normally granted Master the mercy of dreamless sleep. It had been… difficult for her when Brat-Sneasel had stolen that kindness from him.

Large, unwieldy fingers brushed against Master's tanned face, over the scar left by untamed Ice's Blizzard. When she touched it a deep cold bit into her essence, flooding her. She removed her fingers, unwilling to tempt the frozen power running in Master's veins. Were she to look deeper she knew she would encounter great and terrible powers beneath his skin, powers that Master scarcely knew he possessed.

Hot Fire, warm and comforting yet liable to sear flesh and soul when its wrath was awakened.

Focused Lightning, quick and direct and powerful. It was the first to leap to Master's defense when she peered deeply into his sleeping mind.

Frozen Ice. Cold and still and lifeless that lulled her into the trap of inaction and passivity.

The Song which Master was so fond of. This was perhaps her favorite, the only Concept which did not threaten her Master in the least. It comforted her as well to have such a great shroud against the forces to test them in the coming days…

Fury, once foreign but now familiar, ate at her spirit. Pressure flooded the room, a tangible sense of the hatred which filled her, as she sensed the last - and perhaps deepest - of the Brands on her Master. A cold heat, similar to Ice's but altogether different, filled her and for a moment she felt arrogance and satisfaction and all-addictive _power_ before she tempered it away.

The Shade. Mewtwo, as Master called him. She knew his great fear and hatred of the beast and felt it in turn. The powerlessness of the grim sight when the Shade had nearly conquered the Guardian of Life itself, and drew on strange, dark powers to overcome its progenitor. The dread when the Guardian of Life, desperate and reeling, slew her Master while the Shade had sucked his essence into his own.

Her focus trembled. It leapt to and fro as though it were possessed by a force far greater than her own. She relaxed her hold on the great well of power within Master and withdrew. The power was different than normal. Beneath its dark thoughts and satisfaction - and pleasure at watching through the eyes of Master - was a deep tempest of discord.

She took what little satisfaction she could from the Shade's discomfort.

But that mattered little. It was a truth she knew. Instead, she allowed her eyes - dull and faded as they in comparison to her brothers and sisters, especially the Vain - to rest upon the small, unassuming tablet that lay inert upon her Master's bare chest. The stone was simply that at first glance, even when she reached out with her mind, yet hid so much more...

The events of the previous day flooded her thoughts, and even the memories of her brothers and sisters roused at the thought and nearly overcame her well-ordered mind. She shut the deluge of memories away and calmed the foreign minds. They returned to their slumber and she was at peace once more.

She did not brush against the Concepts again. She gave no more thought to the amulet. They were not mysteries for her to comprehend, no matter how tantalizing the knowledge and insight they offered might be. Her bones spoke to her, warned her against such folly. Only Master could delve deep into their secrets with his mind intact, his spirit hardened against such forces by continuous tests of his will.

Her eyes quirked up into the eye-smile her Master enjoyed so much. She allowed her fingers to brush against the black hair on his head. It was coarse, like her own. She marveled at how odd humans were. How had they developed in such a way? They looked so strange with their naked skin.

The senses her mind granted her warned that he would awaken if she kept it up - his heart raced, his skin tingled, and if she continued he would be pulled away from the dreams. She stopped, though regretted it.

Master needed such comforts.

She could not help but recall when she, a young and untested member of her kind, had first found Master where he slumbered beneath a tree in the wilds she had grown up in. He had been so calm then. So relaxed in his sleep with a young King against his legs, the Vain in the trees above his head, and the Torrent resting fitfully as he sunk to the bottom of the lake.

Master had been another meal back then, an easy source of dreams for her to devour. Yet he'd awoken, and she had been driven away and captured by the might of his team. Her eyes quirked into another smile. Oh, she had _hated_ him for a time. It was impossible to imagine now, but for those first few days she knew him, he had been a figure to despise. She had resented him deeply for stealing her freedom, for taking her from the wilds she had known from the day she had hatched.

Yet on the sea-vessel that haunted Master's dreams, she had seen him as so much more. He was young yet courageous, had fought on for not only his survival but his brother and sister's. She respected him, then, and assisted him in his escape.

In the time to come she came to appreciate him. A boy - older than her in years but a mere child in human terms - who loved his brothers and sisters more deeply than he loved himself. A boy tested by tragedy and grim tidings. A boy transformed by the black-and-red garbed trainers he would hunt across the region.

He had come far. It was unimaginable how much had changed. She could only marvel at how strong he had become, by the powers and determination he clung to. Master had done more than most could think of in scarcely a year. He had transformed her life and the lives of them all.

Where would she be now had she not found him? She would not have matured for some time. She would have been a scavenger subsisting on the dreams of what few lone or sleeping creatures she came across in the wilderness. She would have fought constantly to sate her hunger for dreams and rest.

She would not be Dazed.

Her eyes quirked again and she pulled her dull, clumsy fingers farther away from her Master. She hoped he would find solace in his rest. He deserved it after the darkness he had faced.

When he awoke, she would help him find the light. When he awoke, she would be at his side.

And she always would be.


End file.
